Final Call
by boswifedeb
Summary: A simple Saturday turns into the loss of a deputy at the hands of a Chinese triad, mounting problems with a possible hitman, and a complete physical blindside that leaves Matt feeling exposed, caged, and totally without control. Rated T for violence and language. **Immediately follows "Deep in the Heart".
1. Chapter 1

**Final Call**

" _ **You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life." Winston Churchill**_

 **01 - Fall Roundup**

It was one of those gorgeous Texas autumn days, the kind that grace the covers of magazines and postcards. The trees were putting on their best show with colors of rust and gold and every shade in between. And Mattlock William Houston was right where he wanted to be, doing what he absolutely loved: rounding up cattle. The herds had done extremely well and the ranch would be enjoying a well-earned payday, the cowboys who worked there looking forward to a nice bonus from their boss, who unlike a lot of other owners, believed in being out with his employees in all of the dust and mud that working cattle generated - at least as much as his jobs would allow. While there was no doubt about who was in charge, work at the Houston ranch was a relaxed affair. The man wouldn't ask anything of the people who worked for him that he wasn't willing to do himself.

Among all the men who were working the herd was one woman: CJ Parsons-Houston, wife and business partner of Matt. After the death of her mother when she was ten years old, she began living on the neighboring ranch with her useless drunk of an uncle and spent the majority of her time with Matt and his dad Bill. Since the day that they first met at the age of ten, the pair had been in love and although they denied it for years on end, they had finally admitted it and married, becoming parents to not only three of their own children, but adopting a teenage boy as well.

As the cattle were herded into pens and sorted, a group of friends and family stood watching the cowboys and cowgirl. The couple's three youngest children - Catey, Vinnie, and Mike - were being safely supervised by their nanny Sheila Wentworth, their adopted brother Tomás, and former LAPD lieutenant Vince Novelli, a man that Matt considered a brother. Also on hand were Matt's Uncle Roy and his wife of less than a year Rosa, who was Vince's mother.

One steer seemed to take exception to the interruption to his daily routine of grazing and he made a break for it past one of the newer workers. Houston spotted the escapee and took off after him, roping him in short order and returning him to the pen. As he watched the activity, Roy chuckled. "I believe that boy should've been born a hundred years sooner."

"But what would he have done without a computer?" Vince had overheard the comment and everyone laughed.

When the sorting was all done, and the cattle loaded on tractor trailers headed to market, a rowdy cheer went up. It was time for a cookout and dancing. Madre Rosa, the housekeeper of the Texas ranch, had been preparing for the cookout for days. As the horses were put away, the music began playing and everyone gathered on the patio. Two of the cowboys - Bo and Lamar - were normally at the Houston's California ranch and were happy to be taking part in the roundup. Though both were older than the other cowboys present, they were still top hands and their antics usually had everyone around them in stitches. Other guests began arriving for the party including Chuck Wylie and his entire family, Sheriff Francine Martinez, and veterinarian Art Mulrooney. Just as they were about to start in on the meal, Matt got a phone call.

"Hey, George. How's it goin'?"

"I'll tell you in person if you'll get somebody to open your gate here." The 63 year old former Army MP had put his old Buick in park and was about to shut it off when the gates slid open and in a couple of minutes he was joining the party. "All this just for me?"

"Don't let that ego get outta control now." Matt stood and shook the man's hand and laughed as Madre Rosa began fussing over him, making sure that his plate was filled to capacity.

An hour later the two men walked away from the group that was now dancing while Bo and Lamar attempted to belt out a karaoke version of a Waylon and Willie tune without much success.

"Good thing you aren't running milk cows - the damn milk would be curdled." George jerked his head in the direction of the patio and both men laughed as Matt climbed up on the fence by the barn and horses began flocking to them.

After looking around to make sure that no one was near, the older man began filling in Houston on his investigation on Donovan Biggs Lynch, one of the people that Matt suspected of putting out a hit on him. "I got into Lynch's place the night after I called you. Put three of your critters out in different areas. Peggy is my contact there - the maid. Well, she told me that he conducts a lot of his business out by the pool so I put one of the cameras out there on this God awful statue he's got. Damn thing looks like that Greek mythology woman with all the snakes on her head. Anyway, there's that one and one in his study up on the moulding, and one in his den."

"And they're all working?"

"Yep. And fortunately they've got a damn good picture - unless he walks by one. Now that blonde he's got hanging around…" The older man smiled. "She comes through lookin' just fine. But he's the ugliest SOB I think I've ever seen." Both men chuckled but the talk soon turned serious. "I haven't heard him say anything even vaguely related to you."

Matt looked out across the pastures exhaling a long breath. "I could be completely wrong about this whole thing."

"Son, you've got some of the best instincts going. Trust 'em." He watched as the younger man nodded. "You know, you've done a lot with this place."

"Had a lot of good help." Matt turned back toward where the party was continuing up on the patio. "That right there is the best damn crew in the state of Texas."

"You sure as hell didn't hire 'em for their singing abilities, did ya?"

"Tell you what, why don't you go up there and show them how it's done?" He slid down off the fence and clapped the older man on the back.

"Believe I might. But I'm going to charge you a dance with that pretty wife of yours."

The party went on until about midnight. When Matt and CJ finally turned in it was after 1:30. Around 4:00AM, the detective awoke with a start from the strange dream that had been haunting him for over a year. It had finally gotten to the point where he could see and remember more afterward, and he had started recording what he remembered. After sliding out from under CJ, he put on a pair of jeans and quietly made his way downstairs to the kitchen where he started a pot of coffee and sat down at the table. Punching the recorder app on his phone, he began speaking quietly. "I give Jasper a drink and we start up a hill and get about halfway before the dirt and gravel under our feet starts moving and sliding us back down. Just when we get to the top there's a loud noise and bright light." He turned off the recording and sat in thought for a minute. When the dream had first started haunting him, he would wake up in a cold sweat, screaming about half the time. Lately he wasn't screaming but would jump awake. But what did it all mean?

Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement. Madre Rosa appeared in the doorway coming from the hall where her room was located. "So that's what you've been dreaming all these months?"

"Did I wake you up?"

"No." She padded into the kitchen and over to the coffee pot where she poured two cups, then came and sat down at the table with him. Neither spoke as they sipped the coffee for a couple of minutes. "What you were talking about is the nightmare that you've been having?"

He nodded, looking down at the cup in his hands. "I wish to hell I knew what it meant."

"You will in time."

"I hope so."

"So what did your friend George have to say?"

"Aw, nothing much." He took another sip.

" _Hijo,_ you're not a good liar." She watched as he swirled the coffee that was left in the cup before standing up.

Leaning over he kissed her on the cheek. "I'm gonna see if I can get some more shut eye." With that, he turned and went back through the house and upstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

**02 - Line of Duty**

Carlito Ruiz drove the HCSO patrol car along I-45 North following a white Chevy cargo van. There wasn't anything remarkable about the van other than the fact that the reflection of the driver in the side mirror appeared nervous. After six years on the job he knew that most likely the man had something to hide, so he ran a records check on the license plate. "B-116."

"Go ahead B-116."

"Can I get a 10-28 on a 2010 Chevy van, license number Boy-Boy-Zebra-7-1-4-9 please, ma'am?"

"Standby."

Carlito slacked off on his pace a bit, hoping to keep the driver from anticipating a stop, although from his appearance it most likely wouldn't be much of a surprise.

"B-116, that plate comes back as stolen from a 2002 Honda Civic, green in color, registered out of Beaumont."

"10-4. Would you start another unit my way? I'm…" He paused as the driver suddenly accelerated. "Looks like he's going to try to run. I'm north on 45 just passing over Patton." He hit the lights and siren.

"10-4. Any unit in the vicinity of 45 and Patton, officer needs assistance for a felony stop."

Inside the gunshop, Matt and Chuck both turned and headed for the door as the call came across their handheld radios. "5156 responding." Houston pulled the keys from his pocket and he and his friend got into the department Suburban. "Know what they say, pard: location, location, location." The two men laughed as the lights and siren came alive and they hit the onramp for I-45 in less than six hundred feet. As they entered the interstate they could see the flashing lights of the cruiser up ahead and fell in line behind it.

"Unit 116, this is Detective Wylie. We're on your six." Chuck radioed the deputy.

"Navy terms, huh?" Houston chuckled.

"That was mighty quick. Think you could do the honors and call it?"

Chuck responded. "Not a problem. Dispatch, we're still north on 45, speeds at 85, traffic is moderate." They continued on.

"I believe that van is carrying a load of some sort. Looks pretty weighted down." Matt kept pace with Ruiz.

"Uh huh." Wylie spoke into the mic again. "Passing the 610, speed is still 85, traffic still moderate." He cursed as an inattentive driver almost came into the passenger side of the Suburban. "I swear some of these folks must have their heads shoved up their…" He didn't finish as the van suddenly bolted onto the service road. "Dispatch, the suspect vehicle has now exited onto the 45 Service Road going north. Requesting additional units." Pausing for a minute he cursed under his breath again. "Van is now heading into the parking lot of the stripmall."

"Looks like they're going to bail…" Matt swerved to avoid another driver who wasn't paying attention as they turned into the lot.

Chuck and Matt sprang out of the truck after the van came to a halt as it rammed into a light pole, the driver diving out of the vehicle and running toward the shopping center with Ruiz right behind him. Another man jumped from the passenger seat and turned, firing at the two detectives who both returned fire, dropping the man in his tracks. "I've got this one. Go back him up." The blonde haired detective advanced on the shooter and kicked the gun away from him, knowing as he did so that there wasn't any need: the Asian-looking man had been hit four times, all four square in the center of his chest. Another cruiser sped into the parking lot.

Matt just spotted the dark blue uniform shirt going around the end of the the row of buildings. In the time it took him to run three more steps he heard the sound of gunfire exploding from the alleyway. He stopped at the corner, sneaking his head around to see the driver running away as the deputy lay on the ground. Firing three shots at the runner and hitting him in the lower leg, Matt had to dive for the ground when the man swung around with an automatic pistol and let loose with several rounds. He returned two shots and hit the man in the left chest, sending him backward. "10-33! Officer down! Need two ambulances at the east end of the strip mall!" Running toward the suspect he kicked away the gun, then checked for a pulse and finding none, ran back to Ruiz and began applying pressure to two different wounds, one on the man's left thigh where the blood had already left an expanding puddle. The other was under his armpit on the left side just outside of his vest. He looked down at the man's nametag. "Easy, Ruiz. Breathe, okay?" He tried not to sound upset, but nearly all of the color had drained from the young man's face. "Look at me - come on, man. Breathe." There was an awful rattling sound as the deputy drew a breath and the pained expression on his face faded away. "Get pressure on there!" He yelled as Chuck and two other deputies came running up to them. "C'mon, Ruiz! Work with me!" Starting CPR, he focused on nothing else and didn't realize when the EMTs had shown up until Chuck after stripping off his gloves, pulled him away so that they could take over. Standing over the deputy, Houston knew that it was already too late. Although they kept doing CPR on the man, the EMTs didn't look too hopeful as he was loaded into the ambulance while the sound of even more sirens filled the air.

Matt walked over to where the body of the shooter lay in a puddle of murky water next to a dumpster in the alleyway, trying to calm himself and get his breathing under control as well as the muscles in his back to unlock. The green polo-type uniform shirt he was wearing was covered in Ruiz's blood as were his hands.

"Pard, you need to go on back to the unit and get cleaned up." Chuck laid his hand on his best friend's back and watched as he nodded, slowly turning around. "Y'all secure the area." The other deputies nodded, each one just as upset as the two detectives.

As they rounded the corner, Houston saw that the two shooters hadn't been the only occupants of the van. Nine people were lying face down on the parking lot while a pair of EMTs worked on a tenth - a woman - who had apparently been injured in the crash. A perimeter of yellow crime scene tape had already been established, and just outside of it was a throng of onlookers and media. "It sure didn't take 'em long to get here." Matt's disgusted tone drew a nod from Chuck.

"And the Piranha is here, too, so keep your cool." Since the blitz of attention that Tamara Placer's reports had placed on the department a week earlier, specifically on the supposed romantic relationship between Houston and Sheriff Francine Martinez, the detective had adopted the name that CJ and Matt employed for the reporter. The reply was a grunt as the man turned his attention back to the people on the ground.

"What have we got, Hopkins?"

"No IDs on any of them. And nobody speaks English."

Looking at the three men and six women who were uninjured, all of whom appeared Asian and scared to death, Houston blew out a breath and looked around as another siren sounded. Pulling in under the crime scene tape was Sheriff Francine Martinez who parked behind Houston's Suburban. As she slid out of the vehicle and saw the detective's clothes she spoke.

"Is any of that blood yours?"

Obviously upset, he replied, "No, ma'am; I'm afraid we may have lost Ruiz."

Nodding she approached the two detectives. "What exactly happened?" Listening as the two friends told her, she became visibly upset after hearing how the deputy had been shot down. Trying to compose herself, she shifted her focus. "So it looks like human smuggling."

"Appears that way." Matt reached back to pull a pair of nitrile gloves out of his pocket, then looked down at the shirt.

"You better get that off." She motioned to the shirt. "Do you have a spare?"

"Yeah." Walking back to the unit, he popped the hatch and found the gear bag. "Do you mind?" Martinez opened it and removed a white t-shirt with the HCSO logo on it, a bottle of hand sanitizer, and some paper towels. She went back to her own vehicle, returning to his side with a plastic bag. "Here…" She opened it up for him as he carefully removed the shirt, trying to keep from getting anymore of the blood on him and placed it in the bag. Picking up the sanitizer, she opened the top and squeezed some into his hands while he began scrubbing off the blood that had soaked through the shirt and onto his chest, finally wiping it off with the paper towels. After cleaning his hands off again, he donned the t-shirt and closed up the hatch.

When they approached the van, Chuck was already looking through it. There were ten plastic bags in the area where the men and women had been seated and he had opened each one. "Looks like toiletries. No IDs."

Houston gave a grunt and went to the front passenger seat. In the floorboard was a briefcase that he laid on the seat before popping it open. Inside were IDs. He exchanged a look with the other two. "I believe we may have more than smuggling going on - like maybe trafficking."

Chuck nodded. "Usually smugglers don't take IDs. They just want to get them delivered and get the hell outta Dodge. Traffickers, though - that's another story."

Martinez nodded. "I'm going to leave this with you two. I need to get to the hospital. Keep me in the loop."

Houston nodded, turned toward the body of the passenger and found that Chris Eversong was talking with one of the Coroner's assistants. "Got an ID on him?"

The assistant removed a wallet from the man's back pocket. "Yin Zheng, age twenty six, got an address over on Augustine." He passed the wallet to Chuck who held it open so that Matt could write down the address.

Kneeling down, Matt eased back the collar of the dead man's shirt a little bit. "Anybody know Chinese?" There was a negative reply from all three and the detective stood back up, a pained expression on his face, and turned toward the alleyway. Chuck walked with him.

"We've got a couple of Chinese-speaking folks on staff." Pulling his phone out he placed a call and asked for one of the officers to meet them at the office..

As they approached the body of the driver Chuck's phone rang. "Yeah? Damn. Alright, thanks for letting me know." Sighing as he put the device away he started to speak but was cut off by his friend.

"Ruiz is dead."

"Yeah." The other two deputies in the alley exchanged an angry look.

"Did you know him?"

"No, seen him around a few times but didn't really know him." Chuck knelt down next to another worker from the Coroner's office and Michelle Rodolfo who had overheard the exchange.

"I'm glad you took this guy out, Houston." The anger caused her voice to shake.

"What about an ID?"

"Jing Du. Lives over on Augustine."

"Lives with our other dead guy." Chuck copied down the address.

"Has he got a tattoo on his chest?" Matt leaned over to look closer as the assistant moved the shirt exposing a tattoo that matched that of the other man, a Chinese character enclosed in a triangle. Snapping a picture of it with his phone, he winced as he stood up straight. "Folks, I believe we're dealing with a triad."


	3. Chapter 3

**03 -Barbours Cut**

The two friends headed back to the office to meet up with the interpreter and question the passengers from the van. On the way Matt's phone buzzed with a text and he handed it to Chuck. "Is it CJ?"

"Yup. Says she saw it on TV. Loves you. Call if you need anything." He waited for a reply.

"Tell her I love her, too."

"Kinda like passing notes in school." He gave a grin and typed the reply. Silence ensued and he snuck a couple of glances at the man. "You okay?"

"I'm pissed."

"At least you took him out. He didn't get away with it. Neither did the other guy."

"No, but that won't bring Ruiz back, will it? I saw he was wearing a wedding ring."

"Yeah."

Back at Baker Street a throng of reporters had gathered, among them Tamara Placer. Matt cursed under his breath.

"Just act like they aren't there, pard." Chuck got out of the Suburban and led the way up the steps, ignoring the jumble of questions and pausing to hold the door for his friend. "That went pretty well."

"Surprisingly." Matt stopped by the break room and poured two cups of coffee, handing one to Chuck. "So much for a fun Saturday at the gun range, huh?" The pair were supposed to have done their qualifying for the department.

"That reminds me…" Wylie pulled out his phone and after explaining why they hadn't shown up for their assigned time, got it rescheduled. "I got us in at 9:00 Monday morning." The pair went to the interrogation rooms and found a deputy waiting for them with copies of the IDs that had been found in the briefcase as well as the interpreter.

Holding out her hand to the two detectives she introduced herself. "Sherri Kwan."

"Matt Houston." He took the folder from the other deputy and thanked him.

"Chuck Wylie."

"Ready if you are." Leading the way into the first room, they found a young woman handcuffed to the table and looking scared to death.

Matt opened the folder and shuffled through the pages, finally landing on the sheet that held the woman's likeness. "Zhou Ruan?" Surprised, she nodded quickly. "English?"

"Little."

"Better safe than sorry." He looked to the interpreter. "Would you inform her of her rights?"

In Chinese, Kwan recited the Miranda Warning and after the woman nodded her understanding, she sat down across from her as did Chuck while Matt chose to lean against the wall.

"Can you tell us how you came to be in the van?" He waited as the question was translated and the answer given.

"She says she was on the way to a job."

"And is she in the country legally?" He knew the answer before the translation was complete as the young woman looked down at her hands. "How did you get here?" She didn't move at all, but continued staring at her hands while tears welled up in her eyes. "Ask her again." There was no reply aside from a shake of her head. "How do you know the man who was driving?" Once again, nothing and then she spoke in Chinese. Matt waited.

"She says she has nothing else to say." Kwan looked back at the detective.

Leaving the room, they went into the next and Matt found the picture of Chen Sung. The man wouldn't even look up at them and said absolutely nothing at all.

Walking back out into the hallway, Chuck tossed his empty coffee cup into a trash can. "This could make for a long day." Each of the detainees remained absolutely silent and as they were about to enter the ninth room, he blew out a disgusted breath. "Hope to hell we get something out of this one."

Kwan sat down across from another young woman, this one barely looking sixteen although according to the ID she was twenty two. The search through the folder told Matt that her name was Ju Tan. After giving the Miranda Warning in Chinese, the interpreter began asking the same questions that the others had been asked.

Visibly shaking, the girl looked at the three in terror before speaking in her native tongue. "I wish to go home."

"Okay, in order to help you with that we need you to help us." Kwan gave her a smile. "How did you get into the country?"

"We came on a ship." The interpreter began writing down the girl's answers.

"Do you know the name of it?"

" _Dragon Fire_."

"And where did you board this ship?"

"Manilla."

"How did you get to Manilla?" There was a pause as the young woman looked first at Chuck and then Matt. "They won't harm you. It's okay."

"A fishing boat from Zahnjiang. We were taken in small groups to the ship."

Matt had been reading the conversation over Kwan's shoulder and prompted her, "How many came over on the _Dragon Fire_?" The question was relayed.

"She says that there were fifty of them."

"Does she know where the others went? There were ten in the van." The answer was a shake of her head and he waited as an explanation followed.

"When they got here they were split into groups again. Hers was the last to leave the ship."

"Where did they make entry?" Watching the girl's face he could tell she didn't have a clue where they had been brought in. Sure enough, she shook her head no, and then spoke again.

"There were a lot of shipping containers - we were in one of them." Again, she fearfully looked at the two detectives.

"Could she see out of the van when they left?"

Kwan asked the question and the girl answered that she had been trying to look out the window and had been seen by the man in the front passenger seat. He had hit her and made her hide her face. But she had snuck a peek a few minutes later and saw some trees that were planted in a circle.

Houston nodded and looked to Chuck. "That's where Battleground passes over the Pasadena Freeway. So they came in through Barbours Cut." He gave the girl a smile and she seemed to relax a little bit. "We need to check out that ship." Looking back to the girl he spoke again. "Does she know where they were taking her?"

"Dallas."

"What kind of job?" The girl lowered her head and began to silently cry as she was asked the question. Kwan prompted her again.

"They promised her a job as a hair stylist - and then when she got in the van they told her she was going to be an escort."

"Yup, human trafficking for sure." Chuck had an angry look on his face. "Does she know who the guys in the van were working for?" The question was asked and Ju's shaking became more intense.

Matt spoke softly. "Ask her which triad."

Kwan asked and the girl shook her head. "I wish to go home now."

Back in their cubicle, Houston sat down behind the desk and began looking into the _Dragon Fire_. "The ship is owned by the Huang Xiang Ming Corporation out of Hong Kong." He worked the keyboard again, trying to find out as much as possible about the company. "Not anything unusual showing on them. Guess let's go see if we can take a look at it."

"Pard, we're probably going to need a search warrant."

"I'd say that depends on who we go with." He pulled out his phone and looked through the contacts, then made a call. "Hey, Oakley. How's it going?" Listening to the reply, he leaned back in the chair. "Well, I would like to say it's good on this end but that would be a lie. We lost a deputy today." Condolences were given and then Matt began explaining what had happened and the information that they had gotten from the girl.

Meanwhile, Chuck was doing some looking of his own on the computer, trying to find out which triad used the tattoo that had been worn by both of the shooters. "Got it." He printed out the information and walked over to hand it to his partner.

"Chuck just found out the name of the triad: Xiōngdì Qǐyè - not sure if I said that right. It means business brotherhood." He nodded to Chuck as he listened to the Homeland Security agent. "Well, the ship is Chinese out of Hong Kong. We want to try to take a look at it. You got any friends down this way who could help us out?" He began writing on the piece of paper. "Noel Legrand. Uh huh…" He continued to write. "I sure would appreciate it, bud." Pausing for a minute he looked a little uncomfortable. "Well...now isn't really a good time. Can I call you later?" Standing up he popped his back and looked over as Francine Martinez walked in. "Sure will. Thanks."

"Anything?" She leaned against the wall of the cubicle.

"As a matter of fact you have great timing." He brought her up to date with everything they had. "My friend at Homeland Security gave me the name of a customs inspector that might be able to help us out."

"You do know the vessels are inspected when they dock, right?" Martinez looked between the pair.

"Well, yeah, but…" Matt shrugged. "I didn't figure it could hurt."

"Maybe shake them up a little bit."

"Boys, if these folks deal with the triads I don't really think that you taking a tour of the ship is going to cause them to lose any sleep. Besides the girl told you her group was the last to leave the ship - there aren't any illegals left. I think we might be smarter to let Customs know what we have and let them carry the ball on that part." She saw the doubtful looks on their faces. "If you go on board, you'll look around and find nothing. That isn't going to get us anywhere. What we need to try to do is see if we can find out about the other vehicles that took the other groups. Let's go talk to this girl again." She led the way back to the interrogation rooms where Ju Tan was being led out. "We need her back in there again." She along with the two detectives and Sherri Kwan followed the transport deputy back into the room with the young woman. "Don't worry about the handcuffs."

Sitting down across from the girl she spoke to the interpreter. "Ask her if she knows what vehicles were used to take the others to their jobs."

Kwan did as she was told. "All were vans - gray, white, and black."

"And I don't suppose she caught any tag numbers?"

The question was asked and the answer was a shake of the head.

"Were all of the groups going to Dallas?" Ju shrugged her shoulders..

The group left the room. "I'll send out a BOLO on the vans. Don't know how much good it will do, but that's about all we've got."

"I'm going to go check out the apartment where our shooters lived." Matt turned and started down the hallway.

"Houston, take some more help with you - just in case."


	4. Chapter 4

**04 - Augustine Drive**

As Houston and Wylie made their way down I-69 followed by two patrol cars, he was thinking about what Chris Oakley had asked him. Evidently, word of the attempts on his life had gotten back to the Child Exploitation Task Force that he and CJ had been asked to join by Agent David Rossi of the FBI. He told Chris that he would call him later about it - now he had to figure out what to say.

"And you haven't heard a word I said, have you?" Chuck, looking somewhat disgruntled, was staring at Matt.

"Uh, no. Sorry. What?"

Heaving a big sigh, he shook his head. "What in the hell is eating at you, man?"

"Nothing." There was no reply and he looked over at Chuck who was staring out the passenger window now with his arms crossed and a pissed look on his face. "You know, you kinda look like Lisa doing that."

"Bite me."

"You _really_ sound like her, too." Giving a chuckle, he glanced back at his friend. "Sorry, bud. Just got a lot on my mind."

"So what about this Oakley guy at Homeland Security?"

"Nice guy. Didn't think so the first time we worked together, but to be completely fair I had tonsillitis and he had just gotten served with divorce papers so neither one of us was exactly a ray of sunshine."

"Ah hah, he had to endure Sick Houston. Not fun." He cracked up. "So you're supposed to call him back?"

"Oh, I can do that later. No big deal."

"Uh huh...now why don't I believe that?" There was no answer. "Pard, you suck at lying. Always have." Matt still didn't answer. "So should I have ridden in one of the patrol cars so you two could talk?" A touch of anger was in his voice.

"No…" Houston weighed his options. "He...well, hell. He wanted to know about me getting shot at and...stuff."

"Shot at?"

"Can we not talk about that right now?"

"Fine." Looking back out the window again, Wylie continued to stew. "No, it isn't fine. Damn it, we've been friends for almost thirty five years now. Why in the hell will you talk to him about it and not me?"

Matt rolled his eyes and blew out a breath. "I...it...damn." Shaking his head, he looked over at Chuck. "I don't want a word of this getting out, you hear me? Not to Lisa, not Martinez, nobody. Because if it does I'm gonna kick your butt."

Turning slightly in the seat the detective looked like he had just been struck by inspiration. "That's why George was at the party yesterday." His answer was a nod. "So he's working for you?"

"Yeah."

"Well, at least you did one smart thing. George is the best."

"Nice to know you approve." The answer was sarcastic.

"So who's been shooting at you?"

"I wish to hell I knew." After taking a long sip of the Fizzy Pop, he started telling about the shooter in Los Angeles three months back who had at first tried ambushing him from the top of a movie theater, then kidnapped Hoyt's daughter and demanded that he make the ransom drop where he once again planned to shoot him. It hadn't worked out in the young man's favor: Matt had stabbed him in the belly with a knife and a sniper in the hills of the canyon had put a bullet through the man's forehead. "We still haven't been able to identify him or get any leads on the sniper."

"Damn." There was quiet in the Suburban while he thought about it. "But George isn't in California…"

"No. Do you remember when I was trying to find Rachel Devereux and that goon from the strip club took a shot at me?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, his employer was the sister of a guy that I've been after for over a year. They're under investigation by the Child Exploitation Task Force."

"So that's two."

"Two of them."

"There's more?"

"I can't say for sure, but Donovan Biggs Lynch may be involved."

"How in the hell?"

"I was working on that big apartment fire case that happened in LA - right around New Years last year, remember?"

"Uh huh."

"Biggs was one of the financial backers and we believe that his nephew is the one who torched the place. The nephew died in lockup and someone took a shot into his hotel room that we were searching. I was the one in front of the window."

"Oh, boy. That bastard is just plain old bad news." He paused. "So that's three; have there been more?"

"I'm not sure. The wreck on the bridge the other day was more than a little suspicious. Some idiot just comes out of nowhere and tries to run an HCSO vehicle off the road?"

"Crap. That's why you…" Shaking his head, he stared at his friend. "What I want to know is why in the hell didn't you say something to me then?"

"For starters I really don't have any proof that it was an attempted hit."

"Jesus."

"So maybe you _should_ have ridden in one of the patrol cars." He cut his eyes over at Chuck and gave a crooked grin. "Mighta been safer."

"Would you do me a favor?"

"Possibly."

"Tell me when crap like that happens. I may just be able to help you."

Matt nodded. "I was just trying to keep it quiet. If Lynch is involved in it…" He stopped as his phone rang and hit the speaker button. "Yeah, George?"

"Guess who was just talking about you?"

"Oh, really? What exactly did he say?"

"You're gonna love this. He was talking to some guy and asked when in the hell he was gonna get the job on you done."

Chuck's jaw dropped.

"So did you happen to hear the other guy's name?"

"Nope. But he sure 'nuff got his feathers ruffled over the fact that your name was said. He ended the call real quick."

"Alright. I'll see if I can get CJ to do a little snooping in his phone records. Maybe we can catch up to him like that."

"Sounds like a great idea. Hey, I heard you lost a deputy today. Sorry."

"Yeah, Chuck and I are working on that right now."

"Well, I'll let you go. Just thought I better tell you ASAP."

"I appreciate it, bud." The call was disconnected. "So at least we know we were on the right track." He hit CJ's number. "Hey, Lil Mama. Have you got a minute?"

"Sure. Hang on." In the background he heard her tell Sheila that she would be back in a minute. The noise level dropped and she spoke again. "Alright."

"We were right on the money about Lynch. George just got proof." He explained what the PI had heard. There was silence on the other end of the line. "You still there?"

"Yeah." Concern came through loud and clear. "Hon, maybe you better just come on home."

"No, I've got a job to do, Babe. And I've got one for you, too: look through Lynch's recent calls. We need to know who the other guy is and see what we can get on him."

"Alright. But please…"

"I will. Love you."

"Love you, too." She hung up and sat down behind the desk in the study, finding her hands shaking as she opened the computer and began on the search through Lynch's phone calls. As if Matt being there when the deputy had been killed that morning wasn't bad enough, now they knew for sure that one of the dirtiest scumbags in Texas was indeed looking to see him dead.

Matt and Chuck pulled into the lot of the apartment complex on Augustine, an unassuming street in the Chinatown section of Houston. Warrant in hand, Matt led the way into the breezeway sending two of the deputies around back before heading up two flights of steps to the apartment located at the back of the second floor. When all were in place, each with their hands firmly gripping pistols, he pounded on the door.

"HCSO! Search warrant!" There was no reply and no sound came from within. He knocked and announced again, louder, but still there was no reply. Nodding at Chuck, he watched as his childhood friend took two steps toward the door and swung the battering ram. The crunch of yielding wood announced his success and the group entered. While one deputy remained behind to secure the door, the others began clearing the apartment room by room. "All clear." Chuck called in the deputies who had been guarding the back of the building and they began searching the home.

Matt began with one of the bedrooms starting with a chest of drawers right next to the door. The top drawer contained underwear and socks, the next held an assortment of shirts and shorts while the third housed pants. Opening the bottom drawer he found a gallon-sized storage bag of pills.

"We got drugs…"

Chuck stuck his head in the door and took a look. "Oxy?"

"Think so." He took pictures of the find and placed the contraband into an evidence bag, labeling it before setting it on top of the chest. He then moved to the closet and began pushing clothes to the side, searching pockets as he went. As he finished looking through the boxes in the floor of the closet, the detective noticed that one of the baseboards appeared to be crooked. Crawling inside, Matt wiggled the board and pulled it free from the edge of the carpet. A small plastic case was revealed and he snapped a picture of it before working it free from its hiding place. Still on his knees he backed out of the closet and sat down on the floor as Chuck approached, squatting down to get a closer look. "It was hidden behind the baseboard." He opened it while Chuck took a couple of pictures. Inside were more IDs like they had found in the van. Most belonged to women, the majority young and pretty.

"How many?"

The detective counted. "Seventy three." They both shook their heads.

"There's no way in hell we'll ever track down all those folks."

"Nope." Grunting as he regained his feet, Matt took the evidence bag from Chuck, labeling and sealing it."You find anything?"

"Bunch of DVD's. Labeled in Chinese. Bet I know what's on 'em."

"Bet you're right."

"Found a couple of weapons - twelve gauge and a pistol."

"Wonder if anybody else lives here?"

"I sent Klein to the manager's office. They're the only two on the lease."

Both men exited the apartment and started down the stairs. "Better call the Boss Lady."


	5. Chapter 5

**05 - Revelations**

It was almost 8:00 when Matt shut off the engine of the Suburban behind the house. Taking a big breath he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. When he had pulled out that morning the plan had been for Chuck and himself to go to the gun store and get some supplies, then head to the range to take care of their qualifying before coming back to the ranch for an afternoon of fishing. Now they were dealing with the death of a fellow deputy at the hands of triad members.

Up on the porch, Madre Rosa paused in her knitting and watched him, just able to make out his outline in the vehicle. Like CJ, she knew how much Matt wanted to help people. When he had come back from the Army and started the detective agency she hadn't thought it was a good idea. The fact that he left Houston Oil and Bill behind when he went to California to begin a new life hadn't sat well with her, and although she would talk to him even when his dad had refused, there had been a rift between them. Looking back, knowing now what she did about what he had gone through during that time and since then, it made her feel terrible that she had been cross with him. Bill himself had admitted after the pair had made up and were back on speaking terms that he was more proud of Matt than he could have imagined when he left Texas. As she watched him get out of the truck pausing to pop his back, she worried about the toll that all of his activities were taking on him.

"Evenin'." He leaned over and kissed her cheek before settling in on the swing to her left, his left ankle propped on his right knee and the HCSO ball cap resting there.

"I'm sorry about the deputy." There was a nod as he stared across the porch. "Did you know him?"

"No." The reply was very quiet. He looked up at the door as CJ came through it.

"I thought I heard you pull in." She sat down next to him, his arm automatically going across her shoulders as she kissed his cheek before resting her head on his left shoulder.

"Is the crew in bed?"

"Finally. I swear those boys can come up with more excuses."

"Like someone else used to when he was a little boy." Madre Rosa chuckled as the couple smiled. " _Hijo,_ you need to eat." Rising from her rocking chair she motioned him into the house. "I'll not take no for an answer."

"Yes, ma'am." He watched her go into the kitchen, a thoughtful look on his face.

"What?" CJ had caught the expression.

"Nothing." He stood up, wincing slightly, and hand in hand they walked inside.

Vince was pouring himself a cup of coffee as they entered. "Glad to see you made it home."

"Thanks." He sat down at the kitchen table. "How's it going?" Vince, along with Uncle Roy, had been brought in to upgrade the security of the Houston ranch and to install a system at the Rockin' PH.

"Good. Waiting on some parts to come in so we can get started."

"Where's your partner in crime?"

"At the movies with Mama." There was a smirk on his face. "It's a double date."

"Ah hah...did Marty finally pluck up the courage?" A big grin spread across his face as Vince nodded.

"Yup."

"Good." He had thought the week before that Marty and Sheila had seemed to be getting along really well, the foreman spending quite a bit of his off time at the house with the nanny.

"You knew?" CJ sounded surprised.

"Who wouldn't?" He took a sip of the tea that Madre Rosa placed in front of him.

"Who would have thought _you_ would notice?" The housekeeper snickered as she went back to the microwave and removed a plate of spaghetti and meatballs for him, adding a slice of garlic bread and then picking up a small salad.

"Thanks." He picked up his fork and started in on the salad.

"Well, I think they're cute together." CJ absently rubbed his back as he ate and the conversation that followed was punctuated with soft laughter.

After finishing the meal, Matt pulled CJ aside in the kitchen. "So did you find anything on the phone call?"

"Yes and no." She looked to make sure that Rosa was out of earshot. "It was a burner, but I did find out where it was at the time of the call."

"Oh?"

A very concerned look crossed her face. "Los Angeles."

Leaning against the kitchen counter he considered it for a moment. "No great surprise really - I mean after what's already happened there."

"I'm trying to track down where it was purchased - with a little help from a friend in Quantico."

"Garcia?"

"Yep."

"Good." He looked down at the floor and sighed, running a hand across his face as he tried to loosen up the tight muscles of his back.

"But I have some other news for you - not related to the case at all - but about relations."

"Oh?"

"Well…" Taking him by the hand she led him into the den where Vince and Rosa were now seated talking. Plopping down on one of the couches she reached for a laptop that was on the coffee table. "After our conversation the other day - regarding family…" She gave him a smile. "I decided to do something that you haven't. I've been looking into your family tree."

"Always nosing into somebody else's business but not your own, huh, Ace?" Vince gave him a grin.

"Careful now. You're starting to sound like Michael."

"Anyway, I started with Wade. I knew you said that he was in the Army with Bill. Guess who was awarded a Silver Star?"

"Really?"

"Uh huh." She pulled up the information on the laptop and turned it so that he could see.

"Guess the apple didn't fall far from the tree." Rosa nodded her approval as she picked up her knitting.

Matt read the account of how his father had saved the population of a small village near the Laotian border from total destruction and in the ensuing firefight, saved the lives of twelve of his fellow soldiers, one of which was Bill Houston. A lump rose up in his throat as he read and he felt CJ's hand on his knee. He nodded, unable to speak.

"Before that, he grew up bouncing around from base to base since your grandfather was a captain in the Navy. He commanded submarines. They even lived in Japan for a while." She showed him a picture that she had found. "There's a pretty good resemblance there."

"Wow…" Matt finally found his voice. "So are there any other members of the family?"

CJ's expression changed. "No. Wade was the last. He had an older brother named Kurt who died in a car crash in Virginia when he was sixteen years old. Your grandmother died a couple of years later and your grandfather, Kurt, Senior passed away while your dad was in Vietnam. He was apparently notified about a month later."

"Must've been deep in the jungle." Vince saw the disappointed look on his friend's face. "How come you never looked into this before?"

"I don't know. It just…" Matt shrugged. "Never seemed like the right time, you know?"

"Anyway, as you can see here…" She clicked onto another tab and he saw a chart appear on the page. "We can trace your family back all the way to England in 1372." There was quiet as Matt looked over all the names of people that he had never known, but with whom he now felt a tie to for the first time. "Oh, and you even had a couple of pirates in the family." Everyone laughed.

Vince nodded. "Somehow I don't find that surprising at all."

"Aye, matey!" Matt cracked up as did the others before he pulled CJ into a hug. "Thanks, Babe."

"You're very welcome. I'll look into your mother's side next."

Everyone looked up as Brian entered the room and took a seat next to Matt. "I heard about what happened. Sorry."

His answer was a nod. Changing the subject, Matt asked, "So how is the homecoming float going?"

The teen rolled his eyes and smiled. "I guess the best way to say it would be creative differences. I'm still trying to remember why I agreed to work on it."

CJ laughed. "It will be something that you'll never forget. Remember the float our junior year, hon? Lori Simmons just _had_ to have your help…"

"Had to have something but I don't know that it was helpful."

"Matt!" Madre Rosa dropped the ball of yarn that she was working with as the entire room erupted in laughter.

"Well…" He grinned. "Piece of advice, Bri: beware of bubble wrap." Once again the room shook with laughter.

"Ah, fatherly advice." Vince shook his head.

A while later, Matt and CJ went upstairs, checking on the kids on the way to their bedroom. All three were sound asleep as he leaned down and kissed them, stopping to watch each one for a minute before returning to CJ. As they entered the room and closed the door she pulled him into a tight hug. "You don't have a thing in the world to feel guilty about, hon." Pulling back she looked up into those brown eyes that she loved so much and watched as he shook his head.

"I just don't think I'm around for them enough." He sat down on the side of the bed and began removing his boots.

"But when you are with them it's one hundred percent. They know that." She went about getting ready for bed as he gathered together his clothes for the next day and went for a shower. When he came back out, the bedroom was bathed in candlelight and she was waiting for him.


	6. Chapter 6

**06 - Barkowski**

The music in the club on Sunset Boulevard was thumping through the walls of the small office in back. All it did for Vasil Barkowski was to irritate him even further. The phone call earlier with Donovan Lynch had set his teeth on edge. How the man had managed to live as long as he had with as little finesse as he displayed was beyond comprehension. He was the consummate bull in a china shop, so full of himself, considering himself to be untouchable. But Barkowski knew better; he had seen the likes of Lynch come and go over the years. Arrogance inevitably led to carelessness and carelessness got people caught - or killed. He had already decided that when the Houston hit was completed he and the Texas tycoon would be parting ways permanently. If Lynch wanted to believe that he was above being taken down by the cops he was welcome to continue on his current path. The Albanian would have no further part of it.

As the door of the office opened, he looked up to see his right hand man Viktor Kostandin entering with a blonde that he suspected was a plant - he just wasn't sure if she was local law enforcement or federal. "Sit down."

"No, thanks." She popped her chewing gum and looked around the room. "Whaddaya want?"

"Oh, not much." Barkowski stood and walked around to the front of the desk. "Just who your contact is and exactly what you've told them."

"Huh?" She stopped chewing.

"I said sit." He watched as Viktor grabbed her by the shoulder with one hand and pushed her downward until she screeched in pain, involuntarily sitting in the offered chair. "Now: who and what?"

"What are you talkin' about?" The chewing resumed, much more intense as Barkowski saw fear flickering in her eyes.

"I'm not sure she's taking us seriously, Viktor." The hulking man reached down and with a sudden movement, snapped the woman's right wrist as if breaking a potato chip, the resulting scream filling the room. When it had died out and become a sob, he spoke again. "Now...would you like to tell me - or do you need another prompt?"

Her complexion white as a sheet, the woman continued to cry silently, as though sound would take too much energy.

"I really have better things to do. What will it be next? A dislocated elbow? Shoulder? A leg perhaps? What do you prefer?"

"No!" She hiccupped. "No, please…"

"The sooner you tell me, the sooner it will be done." The cold, clinical tone of his voice gave away absolutely no emotion at all. "Which agency are you working for?" He waited for a few seconds. "You choose, Viktor. What's your pleasure?"

The giant of a man moved closer to her and she recoiled, falling out of the chair into the floor. "No! I…" She crawled away from him awkwardly, the useless right arm hanging limply across her front. "It's…" Gulping for air she tried to calm herself. There didn't seem to be any way out. Maybe she could make a deal. "It's LAPD."

"What do you know? We were right the first time." A sickening smile spread across Barkowski's face. "And your contact?"

"Lieutenant Valencia - Jessimina Valencia - Vice. All I've reported was that you have some illegals working for you. They already knew so it's no big deal. I'll just tell them that you haven't done anything else. Please just let me go." She sobbed again.

"You're not leaving out any details are you? Viktor just hates feeling left out."

"No. That's it - I swear it. Please - let me go now." She was trying to get to her feet.

"Help her up." Barkowski sat back down in the chair while the huge man took two steps closer to her, reaching down not for her left hand but instead her neck. As he began squeezing, her eyes bulged, tongue stuck out, and her flailing feet and arms looked cartoonish to the man behind the desk. It was over in seconds, the sound of something being crushed filling the room. She hung limply in his hand. "Get rid of it." Viktor nodded and hoisted the woman's lifeless body up, still carrying her by the neck - reminding Vasil of the way his grandmother had carried chickens after wringing their necks - and exited through the back door and out into the alley.

Barkowski poured himself a drink from the bottle that was on the desk, throwing back his head and swallowing the vodka in one gulp. The woman had confirmed his theory. What would his next step be? He poured more into the glass and looked down into the clear liquid, swirling it slightly as he thought. She hadn't been a very good plant - only working in the strip club for a couple of weeks before the manager suspected that she was up to something. He seriously doubted that she had passed along much more than what she had confessed. However, he now had the name of her contact in the Vice Squad. Swallowing down the liquid he stood and went through the door of the office and out into the incessant noise of the club, the customers on the dance floor blissfully unaware of what had occurred just a few feet from where they were. _Yes_ , he thought to himself, _Viktor will have another job to do_.

At the same time, in a run-down motel just yards from I-10 in Houston, Besnik Dibra paced restlessly. His target was quickly becoming a large pain in his ass. He had been attempting to find a way to take out the billionaire with as little risk to himself as possible. The night before he had driven past the Houston ranch trying to determine the best way to enter the grounds. After parking a short ways up Crosby Huffman Road, he had carefully worked his way down and with the aid of some night vision binoculars, checked out the gates and fence line that fronted the road. Security was tight. A search of the property records and a map of the area showed him that the family also owned the adjacent property and the security there wasn't as strong. It might be a possible way to get on the grounds. Another possibility was the river access. He hadn't been able to check into the layout along the water and that would be his next course of action and something that was best done in the daylight. All that was needed was a boat of some sort. After settling on the idea, he picked up the TV remote and began channel surfing. The phone next to him rang. "Yes."

Vasil Barkowski steered his Escalade down Sunset Boulevard. "I haven't heard from you."

"I've been researching."

"I'm paying you for results."

"And there will be. I just need to find the right place and time."

"My sources tell me that he was in an accident a few days ago. You didn't have anything to do with that did you?"

"An accident, huh? No, I didn't know about that. Must have been before I got here."

Barkowski had a feeling that Dibra was lying. "Time is of the essence. If you can't handle the job…"

"I can handle it just fine."

"See to it that you do - and soon." He disconnected the call. Houston was proving harder to get rid of than he had expected.

Matt carefully slid out of the bed, moving a pillow down where CJ's head had been resting on his chest. Tenderly, he pushed back a few strands of her hair, watching her sleep for a minute. What would he do without her? Shaking his head, he pulled the sheet up to her shoulders and grazed her forehead with his lips before slipping into the clothes that he had set out the night before. Picking up his cell phone off of the bedside table he looked at the time: 3:43. He quietly crossed the room and went out, closing the door softly behind him and going down the staircase to the kitchen where he started coffee before heading to the study and flipping on the desktop lamp. Sitting down behind what had been Bill Houston's desk and opening the laptop, he looked up at a photo on the wall. When Wade had first told him that he was his biological father, Matt had done some snooping around in Bill's papers and found that the man had been telling the truth. He had also found a picture of the pair that had been taken on a hunting trip. It had now been enlarged and was gracing the wall of the study. Matt felt that both men deserved to be recognized.

CJ's search into his family tree had surprised him. Although he had thought of looking into it himself, something had held him back. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the possibility of disappointment at finding out just what she had: that there weren't any family members left besides him. It also occurred to him that if there had been, Wade might have sent him to them instead of Bill. The man really had done him the greatest favor that he could by giving him over to Bill. But what about his mother's side of the family? Had Wade known if there were any of them left to take him?

"Up early this morning."

The familiar voice brought Matt out of his reverie and he looked up to see Roy standing in the doorway, a bright Hawaiian print bathrobe covering him. "Yeah. You too, huh?"

"I smelled coffee." He put a cup down in front of his nephew and sat on the loveseat across from the desk. "So…" Taking a sip, he looked knowingly over the rim of the cup at Matt. "I know that Placer woman is part of the reason why CJ called Vince and me. I'd like to hear the rest of it."

"Don't you think she's enough of a reason?" He picked up the cup and took a sip, turning the handle and looping it over the middle two fingers of his right hand as he leaned back in the chair.

"Still think there's somebody after you, don't you?" Roy's blue eyes stared piercingly across the desk. He watched as the man looked down into the coffee cup, momentarily silent. "You'd be crazy if you didn't, boy. After what happened with Kathy…" There was still no reply. "Vince and I aren't stupid, you know." He watched as a slight smile went across the younger man's face. "Got any leads on who it might be?"

"I'm a popular person." The crooked grin came across his face. "Maybe you've seen me on TV?"

"Uh huh." Roy took a sip. "I'm waiting."

"Don't worry about it, Uncle Roy." He didn't want his uncle getting in harm's way if at all possible.

"Too late. Out with it." The brown eyes looked into his. "Of course I could just go poking around in it myself."

"I'd prefer you didn't."

"Then tell me yourself." He waited again as more coffee was consumed and then the younger man began speaking very quietly, telling him what they knew and ending with the information that George had overheard the day before.

"Lynch is a son of a bitch." The elder Houston looked thoughtfully into the now empty coffee cup. "Bill wouldn't tolerate the mention of his name."

"Uh huh."

"Bet you're probably right about him having his nephew taken out, too." Both men were quiet. "So what are your plans?"

"I guess what we need now are more evidence against Lynch and to find out who his contact in LA is."

"And to find out who he has here in Texas. That wreck last week was no accident."

Matt nodded.

"Who else knows?"

"Chuck. Michael knows part of it - not what happened last week, though."

"You need to tell him. Keep him up to date on it. He might be able to help from that end." He saw the hesitation on Matt's part. "I mean it: all this business of not wanting to get somebody else involved because it might put them in danger is crap: he's already been involved."

"Okay."

"That's why you didn't tell me from the get-go isn't it?"

The younger man smiled. "Didn't want to interrupt your time with Mama."

"Speaking of which…" Roy stood and stretched. "We were wondering when there's going to be another grandchild."

"We're talking about that."

"Uh huh. I told her so. Guess I won that bet. Think I'll go collect my winnings." Winking, he left the room as the younger man chuckled.


	7. Chapter 7

**07 - Catching Up**

Michael Hoyt grunted as he got out of the car behind the carwash on Eastlake Avenue, the lights from the police cars aggravating the headache he had woken up with when the phone rang. "What've we got, Sarge?"

Sergeant Larry Carlisle turned to see the lieutenant as he lifted the yellow crime scene tape. "It's ugly." There was upset in the older cop's voice. "I know this girl. Marina Berger." Lowering his voice he spoke again. "Works for Valencia down in Vice. Undercover."

"Was she on a job?" The answer was a shrug and he knelt down, pulling back the sheet that had been placed over the body. "Christ." There was no doubt as to the cause of death: the blonde had obviously been strangled, her whole neck appeared to be caved in. "I don't see any sign of a weapon."

"Whoever did this was one strong SOB." Carlisle looked sadly down at the lifeless young woman.

"Has Valencia been contacted?"

"Yep." He pointed toward the end of the alley where a Hispanic woman had just exited a vehicle.

"Oh, my God." Valencia knelt down next to the body. "Marina…" She swallowed hard. "They...look at her neck!"

"Was she on a case?"

Recovering her composure, the woman stood back up, looking around the alleyway, and nodded. "I don't want to discuss it here."

"Alright." Hoyt began looking around the area, really not expecting to find anything. It looked like a body dump. Bob Wisnewski joined the group, carefully setting down the cases carrying his tools of crime scene investigation. After being filled in on what little they knew, he set about documenting the scene.

"Lieutenant - would you care to go for a cup of coffee?" Hoyt looked to Valencia who took one last look at her officer and nodded.

"Meet you at your office."

Both turned away, Hoyt stopping momentarily to speak with Gabby Giovanni before returning to his car. He yawned while sitting at the red light a few blocks away. Anne had been questioning him the night before: when was he going to retire? She was getting impatient. A conversation that he had had with Houston right before he left for Texas about two weeks earlier came back to him as he made the drive through the dark city streets. Michael had been teasing the PI about retirement, but both knew that it was something that the younger man had been considering for a while now - actually since he had proposed to CJ. It didn't seem possible how much time had gone by since then. After the joking had subsided in their conversation, Matt had looked up from the beer in his hand, a serious expression on his face, and spoken. _"Not sure when exactly, Michael. But it's getting closer every day."_

Back at the station, Hoyt made a fresh pot of coffee and stood thinking once again about the conversation with Houston when he heard the chime of the elevator. Valencia stepped into the lobby. After pouring a cup for each of them, they went into his office and had a seat on the couch.

"Marina was working at a strip club down on Sunset - Club International. We've been watching the place for a while now and the owner - Vasil Barkowski. The only problem is that he's very careful. We haven't been able to pin anything on him. He's had a few illegals working there but never for very long. About the time we catch wind of something the people disappear."

"When you say illegals…"

"Practically every nationality you can think of…" She took a sip of the liquid. "That's the whole point of the club."

"So how deep was she undercover?"

"She had only been there a couple of weeks. Did some looking around the dressing room when it was empty and discovered that some of the girls weren't on the up and up." Shaking her head she took another sip. "He's a slick one. I'll send over what little we have on him." Abruptly, Valencia stood up as did Michael.

"I'm sorry."

"Me, too. She was green as could be but I really think she could have gone places with the department." The door closed quietly behind her.

Michael sank back down on the couch, rubbing a hand across his tired face. Cops going down in the line of duty was nothing new. But it seemed like it was happening with greater frequency. He had heard just yesterday that a deputy in Harris County had been cut down by gunfire and his heart was in his throat until he saw a newsclip: there was Houston, covered in blood that wasn't his own and in the thick of it. His stomach knotted up and he felt a burning sensation, one that had begun resurfacing over the last few months. Maybe it _was_ time to retire. He set the cup down on the table in front of him and crossed to his desk, pulling out the bottle of antacid and taking a large swallow before recapping it and returning it to it's place. Looking at his watch he yawned and looked back to the couch in the corner of the office. Flipping off the light switch, he stretched out on it, falling asleep almost immediately.

"Lieutenant? Sir?" Hoyt jumped as someone shook his left shoulder. The face of Merlin Jackson swam into focus. "Sir, Houston is on line one."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks." He began to get off of the couch, clueless for a few seconds as to why he was there in the first place. Then it came back to him. He went to the desk and picked up the receiver, punching the button before stretching. "Still making the news I see."

"Oh?" Matt was riding along the river bank on the back of the mahogany bay.

"Heard you lost an officer yesterday. Sorry."

"Thanks."

"We lost a UC last night - Vice."

"Sorry to hear that."

"So what's going on?"

"Well…" The cowboy paused, knowing that most likely Michael had his hands full: it was Sunday morning and the cop hadn't answered his cell; according to the clerk he had been zonked out on the office couch. He reined in the horse and turned to look out over the water. "Uncle Roy thinks that I need to keep you posted on what's been going on lately."

Hoyt walked around the desk and sat down in the chair. "Somebody tried again."

"Not a hundred percent sure."

"If Roy thinks I should know then I should know. Out with it, PI."

An involuntary chuckle escaped the cowboy, and as the horse shifted restlessly, he told his friend about first the wreck and then George's bit of information.

"Holy cow." He scratched absently at the whiskers on his face. "Kind of careless, isn't he? Saying that on the phone?"

"Evidently whoever was on the LA end of the call thought so, too - he ended it a few seconds later."

"So we still have someone here in the mix. Not surprised." His brain was still slightly foggy as Jackson re-entered the office with a cup of coffee. Thanking the clerk he took a sip and regretted it almost immediately. He opened the drawer, removing the antacid once again.

"You need to eat your yogurt, Michael." Houston had just automatically said it, not even conscious of the thought going through his head before he uttered the words. There was a choking sound on the line.

Hoyt automatically looked up at the light over his desk. He had long thought that the PI had one of his tiny critter cams planted there. "How many times have I asked you to get that damn camera out of here?"

Matt noticed that he didn't sound angry so much as he did tired. "There is no camera."

Dabbing at his shirt front, the lieutenant sat down heavily. "Bull."

"Anyway, now you're up to date. How are Kathy and Anne?"

"Fine. I believe the whole kidnapping thing just reinforced Kathy's decision to be a cop, though." He heard another chuckle from the Texan.

"She's tougher than a pine knot."

"Guess so. How are things down there - other than what you already told me?"

"Good. Kids are over the cold. CJ's fine. Oh, and it seems that Sheila's found herself a beau."

"Really?"

"Yup. And you know him."

The cop thought. "Who?"

"Marty."

"Mar-...Wow. Yeah, I guess I could see that." Settling back in the chair again he smiled. "Always nice to have some good news."

"Well, guess I better get back to the house. Uncle Roy wants to go over some of the changes to the system."

"Let me know if there is anything I can do to help with your problem on this end."

"I appreciate it." He disconnected the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket as he surveyed the river. CJ and he had spent a lot of time in the very spot where he sat atop the horse. They had fished and talked about practically everything under the sun over the years there.

A boat began easing around the bend just to the north and then slowed, the driver pulling back on the throttle and slowly turning it, looking down at what the cowboy decided must be a fish locator. He watched for a minute as the man adjusted the ball cap on his head before turning the wheel and slowly going back the way he had come. In a few seconds he had shut off the engine and was drifting slowly. _Better not try that spot,_ he thought to himself. _Hell of a log jam under there._ Knowing from his own experiences just how much of a mess it was, he was about to holler out to the man to save him some expense on tackle when the engine was fired back up and the man eased back around the bend. Shrugging, Matt turned the horse back the way he had come, stopping on the way back up to the house to pay his respects at the grave of Ollie Burckhardt. Dismounting, he removed the white straw hat, stopping as a muscle spasm painfully gripped his back. The last few days it had gotten worse. After a couple of minutes it loosened up and he approached the gravestone. Old Ollie had saved his life at a rodeo in Amarillo quite a few years before and had been the foreman of CJ's ranch for just a short time before cancer had taken him away from them. "Sure do miss you, bud." Looking around, he nodded: the only thing that the old cowboy had ever asked of him was to be buried in that spot. "You sure picked a good place to be planted, Ollie. Always been a favorite of mine, too." He paused for a minute. "Guess I better get going." He settled the hat back on his head and mounted the bay, turning it toward the house at a cantor, but then slowing back to a walk as his back began complaining.

Back on the river, Besnik Dibra took a deep breath. Why in the hell hadn't he taken a shot at the man? Something had just made him freeze - something that had never happened to him before. Could he have taken him? The target had been armed - it seemed like he was continually armed. Had that been it? Or was the man's reputation beginning to intimidate him? Cursing himself under his breath, he decided that an attack from the river just wasn't the right way for him to take Houston out. But why? A voice in his head tried to reason with the doubt: _Because it's too far from the house._ But who said he was going to take him out at the house? Maybe he would show himself on the riverbank again and… _And you just had that chance and didn't take it. He wouldn't have suspected it. You blew it._


	8. Chapter 8

**08 - One Step Forward and Two Steps Back**

After going over plans for updates to the security system on the Houston ranch and the new system for the PH, Matt took a shower and changed clothes. In the den he put on his holster and was about to clip on the badge when he stopped to look at it. He ran his fingers around the edges of the seven points. Some of the lore of the septagram included a reference to the seven days of Creation; it was considered a symbol of perfection capable of warding off evil. _Didn't work for Ruiz,_ he thought to himself.

" _Hijo,_ please be careful." Rosa watched as he clipped the badge onto the gun belt.

"Yes, ma'am." He gave her a slight smile before patting her arm as he started past. She watched him go down the hallway and disappear into the kitchen, knowing that there was much more on his mind than the death of the deputy the day before, although without a doubt that was a large part of the worry that showed on his face. He tried so hard not to let his worries show, but she knew him better than most. From the age of five he had been like a son to her. Sighing, she turned toward the kitchen herself and watched him kiss CJ and the kids goodbye on the back porch before climbing behind the wheel of the Suburban and going down the driveway.

He blew out a breath as he turned north on Crosby Huffman Road headed up to FM-1960. He was trying to vary his route into town these days, hoping to throw off anyone who might be watching. Everytime he stepped outside his eyes were constantly scanning the area around him looking for any sign of trouble. He avoided debris of any kind in the roadway - something that uncomfortably reminded him of his time in the Middle East. But until he could eliminate the threat that hung over him, it was something that he would just have to deal with and then another thought occurred to him: _You thought the threat was eliminated before. How many more, Mattlock? How many more bad guys are going to put a price on your head? How many others are going to take on the job of taking you out?_

And if that wasn't enough now they had to try to find forty illegal aliens who were God knows where at that very moment. Ruiz's killer was dead and on a cold slab in the morgue as was his pal, small comfort to the man's widow. He had no idea what he was going to do once he got to the sheriff's department; it just seemed like where he needed to be. The BOLO that had been issued for the vans hadn't been successful so far and with each passing hour, chances decreased. They could be almost anywhere, certainly outside Texas and well on the way to practically any state in the union.

Parking outside the headquarters on Baker Street, he scanned the area before exiting the vehicle. Tamara Placer was nowhere in sight nor were any other reporters much to his relief. He went through the doors, nodded at the deputy behind the front desk, and went to the break room for a cup of coffee before working his way to the cubicle he shared with Chuck. There were no messages or reports waiting for him and he drummed restlessly on the desktop, searching through his mind wondering how best to continue. He looked around the walls and his eyes landed on a missing persons flyer hung there. An idea sparked to life and he began searching through the files of unidentified bodies in the morgue. A couple of minutes later he sighed: none of the John or Jane Does in the Harris County morgue were Chinese. Another thought hit him: Ju Tan had said that her group was going to Dallas. So maybe, just maybe...and there it was in front of him: an unidentified Chinese female had been brought to the morgue in Dallas County overnight. Pulling up another tab he found where the entire collection of ID's that had been found in the closet of the apartment on Augustine had been catalogued and began running facial recognition on them. In a few minutes he had a hit: Jinghua Dai, age nineteen. He snatched up the phone after finding the number for the Dallas morgue and after explaining why he was calling, he was put on hold for what seemed ages but was in fact little more than a minute. A deep voice answered and once again the detective gave his reason for calling.

"Well, that was sure quick. So now we have an ID."

"What can you tell me about her case?" Matt pulled a pad of paper over and began taking notes as the booming voice on the other end of the line started in on the tale.

"She was found last night around 11:00 on Hickory Street under I-75. They haven't done the autopsy yet, but from the looks of her she was beaten to death. Don't think there's a square inch on her anywhere that didn't get damaged. She was nude when they found her. Most likely sexually assaulted."

"Any leads?"

"No, not yet anyway. Like I say, she hasn't been here but a few hours."

"Who's working it?"

"DPD. Detective Brad Sherman." He rattled off the phone number. "I'm sure he'd like to hear from you."

"Thanks a lot." Matt disconnected the call and was dialing the new number when Martinez had a seat in the empty chair. As he waited he showed her what he had found out.

"That's great!"

Putting the phone on speaker, he took a long swig of the coffee and looked across the desk at her. "No reporters this morning."

"None. Almost spooky, huh?"

"No, just a relief."

"Brad Sherman…" A tire-sounding voice came across the line.

"Detective Houston, HCSO. How ya doin'?"

"I'll let you know when the caffeine kicks in. What can I do for you?"

"Well…" Matt leaned back in the chair. "I hope we can help each other out. I understand you got landed with a Jane Doe last night - Hickory under I-75?"

"Yeah…" There was a note of interest in the voice now.

"I've got an ID for you: a nineteen year old Chinese illegal by the name of Jinghua Dai."

"How in the hell?"

Matt explained what they had so far.

"Son of a gun. Okay. Can I get a copy of those ID's in case we get any more of them cropping up here?"

"You sure can - on one condition: I need you to give me anything and everything that you get on her case and any others that should happen to come from it."

"Done deal, man. I sure do appreciate this."

"Works both ways." He gave Sherman his number and hung up the phone. "Now…" Propping his feet up on the desk, he added Sherman's name and number to his cell phone, as well as that of the Dallas morgue. "I think we need to send out the ID's to other departments - see if anything pops with them."

"Should have done that yesterday." Martinez pulled out her phone and made a call, instructing the person on the other end to take care of the matter for them and to have them contact either Houston or Wylie. After hanging up she looked back at him. "Sure I can't talk you into just staying here full time?"

A half smile came across the sergeant's face. "Yup. Okay, now…" His phone rang. "Houston…" The expression on his face immediately changed. "When?" Dropping his head, he closed his eyes. "Yeah, I'll be right there...No need - she's sitting right here." He hung up. "Ju Tan was found dead in her bed a little while ago."

Martinez jumped to her feet, a string of curses issuing from her lips as both locked their weapons in Houston's desk before heading for the jail and up to the floor that housed female inmates. Entering the dormitory that Tan had been assigned to the previous day, they saw that all of the inmates had been instructed to lie face down on the floor, all facing away from where the young woman lay in the middle bunk in a sea of beds, the gray blanket pushed aside revealing a small spot of blood in the center of her chest. "Who found her?"

A female guard stepped forward. "The lunch count came up short. I went looking around and there she was."

"So she was accounted for at breakfast?" Matt had slipped on a pair of gloves and was looking around the beds.

"Yes, sir."

Lowering her voice where only the guard and Houston could hear, Martinez spoke again. "Do you know of anybody who was hassling her?"

"No, ma'am. But...well, it's not like we can keep an eye on each one twenty four-seven."

"Who is bunked in the area?" She was handed a list of names. None were Chinese.

Matt leaned over and looked at the list. He knew as did Martinez that inside the jail, most inmates stuck with their own race. "Any Chinese folks in here?"

"No, sir."

Houston looked around at the women. "Anybody in particular that you think it might be?"

"No, sir."

All three stepped aside as a crime scene tech and two workers from the Coroner's Office entered. After photos of the scene were taken and the area documented, the body was removed and Houston along with the tech and Martinez took a good look at the bunk. There was nothing hidden in the mattresses or the frames of the three-high beds. After the tech bagged and tagged the bedding from Tan's bunk, Matt hoisted himself up to the top bunk and looked around and then up at the ceiling. There was simply nowhere to hide anything up there: the ceiling couldn't be reached, not even by him if he stood up, and that kind of movement would have been caught on the surveillance video. Shaking his head, he slid down to the floor, wincing as he landed. "Need to look at the video."

Martinez ordered the prisoners to be held just as they were until the video could be viewed and possible witnesses or participants interviewed. She and Matt left the dorm and went to the control room to take a look at the footage. "Damn." She blew out a breath. "Can't tell diddly squat about it."

"About all we can do is interview the inmates nearest her. Doubt we'll get anything out of them." He waited as Martinez gave the order to have those bunking in the same area to be detained separately and ordered the other inmates released back to normal activity. While answering a call from her office she watched as Matt placed a call of his own, leaning against the wall, his back to her. After a minute she saw his shoulders sag slightly as his head dropped. Both calls ended at the same time.

"Bad news?" She slipped the phone back into her pocket.

"Yep. The girl who was hurt when the van crashed died early this morning - brain injuries."

"One step forward and two steps back."


	9. Chapter 9

**09 - All's Fair in Love and War**

The interviews with the inmates bunked around Ju Tan went just as Matt had expected: no one had seen or heard a thing. As he and Martinez finished with the last one and went back down to the cubicle his phone rang. "Yeah, Babe?"

She immediately knew he was ticked off. "Is it a bad time?"

"Maybe if you've got some good news it isn't."

"Well…" CJ took a sip of water. "I'm not sure if it's good or not but it is news."

"What?" He unlocked the desk drawer and handed Martinez her pistol and put his own into his holster.

"Penelope called: she wasn't able to find out much more about the phone but she did get two more pieces of information for us about calls that have been made on it - specifically made the same day as the one to Lynch. One was to Japan and one to Mexico. And all three were made within five minutes."

He plopped down into his desk chair and immediately regretted it, pulling himself back to his feet, grimacing in pain until he was able to get his back to pop and then sitting down more carefully. "You still there?"

"Yeah." He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, willing his back to relax.

"So what happened?" She listened as he explained both his identification of the body in Dallas and the deaths of the two girls from the van.

"And?" The sound of his voice had given him away and she was relatively sure of what the problem was.

"That's it."

"I know better, but we'll discuss it when you get home."

The henpecked voice came over the line. "Yes, dear. Love you."

"You, too." Hanging up she worriedly stared at the picture of Bill and Wade across from the desk as Vince came to the door of the study.

"Look what I found hanging out at the airport." He stepped aside to reveal Roy's son Will.

"Hey, you!" She came around the desk and gave Matt's cousin a big hug. "Thank you for coming to help."

"I figured a job this size called for a reunion of the dream team of installers. Plus I don't want Dad to over do it again."

"Let's get you settled into a room."

"Done already."

"Can I at least get you a drink?"

"Some of Madre Rosa's sweet tea would hit the spot."

"Let's go."

She led the way to the kitchen and poured a glass for both men and they went out onto the back porch, sitting down on one of the swings."

"I like the bunkhouse." Will motioned towards the structure with his glass. "Kinda got that classic cowboy vibe."

"You should see the inside."

"So where are the kids?"

"Napping, thankfully." She rolled her eyes. "The boys are exactly like their daddy."

"Nothing but trouble, hey?" Will smiled behind the glass.

"You know it."

Back on Baker Street, Matt reached into the top left hand drawer of his desk and retrieved a bottle of Tylenol, knocking back two with some of the cold coffee.

"C'mon. Lunch is on me." Martinez got to her feet.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? After what happened last time we had breakfast together?"

"Beats the alternative of me eating a desk." Without another word she led the way out to her SUV and slid behind the wheel as he entered the passenger side. "Now - we need to talk."

"Funny. CJ just said that."

"Great minds think alike. So what's going on?"

"Regarding?"

"Your back for one thing. And whatever else is bothering you. You didn't fill me in on what CJ called about so the obvious conclusion is that it's something that you don't want to share."

"I told you about my back before."

"True. But what I just witnessed was worse than before."

"Just one of those days."

"Not really the answer I was looking for. And the other?" There was an uncomfortable silence. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and do a little speculating: it has something to do with the guy that tried to run you off the bridge." Once again there was silence. "This is the part where you spill your guts."

He gave a snort.

"So?"

Matt thought back to his discussion with Roy that morning.

"You've got until they bring my drink to tell me." She put the Suburban in park outside of the diner and the pair entered and had a seat at a table in the back, Matt automatically trying for the chair that would give him the best view of the door and parking lot, but being beat to it by Martinez. He nonchalantly moved his chair slightly to improve the view. "And that just reinforced my theory. Out with it." She watched as he glanced over at the approaching waitress and nodded.

"In a minute." Both ordered tea and the chicken fried steak platter.

"So?"

"It's complicated." He paused as the drinks arrived. After a long sip of the beverage he began telling her the whole thing, his eyes carefully surveying their surroundings and the other customers, most of which were other cops. By the time he reached the part about the phone calls to Mexico and Japan their lunch arrived.

"Why didn't you tell me this when the wreck happened?"

He took a bite of steak, chewing as he tried to think of a good answer. "I'm still not positive that was related."

"Nooooo, of course it wasn't. We have folks running deputies off the road on a daily basis." Martinez gave him a somewhat exasperated look.

"Well, I guess it wasn't anything personal then." He smiled across the table.

"Smartass."

"Like I tell Michael all the time: better than a dumb one."

"I like him - and his lightning rod theory." There was quiet for a couple of minutes as they both ate - and kept a watchful eye out for trouble. "Seriously, though. I think we should see about a security detail."

"No, thanks."

"What about CJ and the kids?"

"That's being taken care of already."

"You're stubborn, you know that?"

"Think I've heard that once or twice before."

"How does CJ put up with you?"

"Years and years of practice. Any other questions?"

"No. But I want you to see someone about that back."

"Um hum " He stabbed at the green beans on his plate.

"You've got until Friday." She received a surprised look. "I mean it. The last thing we need right now is for that thing to lock up when someone is after you." She saw the irritated expression on his face. "Oh, alright - or when _you're_ after someone. Does that make you feel better?"

"It's fine."

"Good. Should make it easy for a doctor to sign off on it then. And until one does you're working from home, Sergeant."

He set down the glass of tea, staring at her in disbelief. "Are you trying to pull rank on me?"

"Not trying - did. And if you don't believe I'm serious just try me."

"I'm supposed to qualify at the range tomorrow."

"I'll take care of that." She finished her mashed potatoes. "I'm the sheriff. I can do stuff like that." After a sip of tea, she signaled the waitress. "Two slices of pecan pie, please."

"What if I don't like pecan pie?"

"You do - I saw you declare war on one at the cookout." She smiled brightly. "You're not the only detective in the world, ya know." The two sat there quietly eating the pie, Matt looking angry. "Look…" She took another sip and set the glass down. "I really appreciate how much work you put into a case here. You really are the best I've ever seen. But…" She held up a hand as he tried to speak. "Everybody has their limits. We're only human and we all need a break sometimes. And we all have personal things that we have to take care of - and in your case, it's your back."

"I don't have a doctor down here."

"I'm sure we can find one for you. Do me a favor: call CJ and tell her what's going on. She mentioned that your doctor in LA is a close friend. Maybe she can recommend someone." He poked at the pie in front of him as he surveyed their surroundings yet again. "Alright, then _I'll_ call her."

"No…"

"Then do it right now." She received an exasperated look. "I mean it, Houston."

There was a moment's pause and then he pulled his phone out and hit CJ's number. He glared across the table at Martinez who ignored it, ate the pie, and continued to keep a lookout. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Not much. Are you finally going to tell me about your back?" There was silence on the other end of the line for a minute.

"Can you talk to Carol and see if she can recommend somebody down here?"

"For your back?"

"Yeah."

"So what finally convinced you?"

"The Boss Lady is sending me home after we finish lunch and won't let me come back until a doc signs off on it."

"Please tell her I said thank you." She heard a big sigh. "Tell her."

"CJ says thank you."

The lawyer could hear laughter on the other end of the line and the sheriff's reply. "Us girls have to stick together."

"I'll call Carol right now and see what she says, hon. And there's a surprise waiting here for you."

"Oh?"

"Uh huh. Be careful. Love you."

"Love you, too. 'Bye." He hung up and looked across at his lunch companion who was still smirking. "Y'all don't play fair."

"All's fair in love and war." She put down her fork and emptied her glass. "I don't know what you're so upset about. You're still going to be on the case - you'll just have other folks doing the footwork." They got up from the table and made their way out to the parking lot, Houston grumbling under his breath.

When they arrived back at Baker Street, his mood didn't improve. Camped out at the top of the steps was Tamara Placer and her cameraman. "It's your lucky day. I'll take care of her while you get in your truck and make a getaway." Martinez shot him a big smile that was returned with a stony glare. "Let me know what you find out, okay?" Her tone changed from one of amusement to concern. "And I mean what I say about working from home: I'll know if you aren't."

Matt slid out of the truck. "Sure you will."

"I will - because I'm putting a detail on your front gate. Like it or not." With that she mounted the steps and was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

**10 - We've Got Your Back**

By the time Matt got to the ranch, a cruiser from the sheriff's office was already posted outside the front gate. He nodded to the deputy behind the wheel as he punched in the security code, only to receive the message that it was an invalid entry. Cursing under his breath, he remembered that it had been changed right before he had left that morning. After entering the proper code, he drove through the gates and up the sweeping drive to the house. Parking around back, he looked up to find Vince with a smirk on his face. "What's got you looking so happy?" His grumble turned the smirk into a smile.

"Getting forgetful in your old age, are you?" He had been showing Will the controls for the current system when Matt had tried the old code.

"Bite me."

"Old _and_ grumpy." He gave a laugh until he saw the look of pain on his friend's face as he stopped at the front of the Suburban to try to get his back to relax. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

A voice drifted down from the porch. "I talked to Carol." CJ met him at the foot of the steps. "She has a friend who is an orthopedic surgeon here. He wants to talk to you." She handed him a slip of paper with a phone number, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"What did you do now?" Vince shook his head in disbelief.

"Nothing."

"Right."

Wrapping an arm around CJ, he made his way up the steps and eased down onto the swing. After a minute's pause once again trying to get some relief from his back, he pulled out his phone and called the number.

"Hello?"

"Hi. My name's Matt Houston. Carol LeMaster wanted me to call you."

"Sure. So what exactly seems to be the problem?"

"Well…" He hated talking about it with Vince standing there but figured he was going to find out one way or another anyway so he started explaining how he had gone from having to pop it occasionally to now being unable to get the muscles to relax and having pain.

"Have you had any trauma lately? Carol told me about the explosion at your office a few years back."

"I was in an accident a week or so ago, but…"

"Was your back x-rayed?"

"No, just my head and neck."

"First thing is to get it x-rayed. Go to Memorial Hermann North. I'll call ahead and tell them that you're on the way in. Oh, and have someone drive you. We don't want you locking up on the freeway."

"Now?"

"It's not like you're going to be playing a round of golf right now, is it? Yeah, now."

"Alright."

"I'll talk to you later."

Matt looked down at the phone as the doctor abruptly disconnected the call.

"Where to?" CJ stood up, pulling a set of keys from her pocket.

"Memorial Hermann North." He gestured to the house. "What about the kids?"

"Sheila's got them. Let's go."

Vince followed them down the steps and opened the door of the Expedition for his friend.

"Thanks, bud." He looked surprised when the former cop climbed into the back seat.

Vince caught the look in the mirror. "Just in case she needs backup."

Matt automatically began watching the road as they left the driveway, noticing that a second patrol car was now following them while the first stayed posted at the gate. He mumbled something under his breath.

"What?" She glanced over at him.

"Martinez has a damn tail on me."

"She warned you."

"Y'all talked again?"

"Yep."

"Kinda rough having two women, Ace. Bad enough with just one." Vince laughed as the detective just sighed.

The trio arrived at the hospital and after filling out a few forms and waiting for half an hour, Matt was ushered back for the x-ray and then told to have a seat in a small exam room. He began pacing around uncomfortably, thinking about the case and trying to get his thoughts off his back. In a few minutes CJ and Vince appeared along with a man dressed in blue jeans, a black heavy metal concert T-shirt, tattoos down each arm, and scuffed up cowboy boots. He stuck out his hand. "Dylan Fitzpatrick."

"Nice to meet you. Didn't think I would be seeing you today."

"After what Carol told me about you I figured I better get started with you right away so you couldn't make a run for it." An easy laugh followed the comment. "Thanks for having a problem by the way. I've been wanting to talk to Carol for a long time."

"They dated at Harvard." CJ was smiling broadly and gave her husband a wink that the doctor couldn't see.

"Uh huh." He looked at the newcomer. "So what have we got?"

"Right now I'm getting you set up for a CT scan." He paused as he snapped two x-rays up on a light box and pointed at a small spot on the film. "It looks like you've got a bone fragment. We need to get a better look at it and see exactly what it's coming in contact with so we can determine exactly how to go at it."

"I don't get it. I didn't hurt my back in the wreck."

"That you knew of; it could have dislodged the chip from where it's been since the explosion. CJ tells me that you've been having a little trouble with it since then." Turning back to face the detective he made a spinning motion. "Lose the shirt and let's have a look."

Matt removed the shirt and Fitzpatrick began asking more questions while poking around the detective's back, causing him to jump in pain and let out with a particularly colorful swearword.

"Matt…" CJ spoke disapprovingly.

"Under certain circumstances, urgent circumstances, desperate circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer. Mark Twain got it right when he said that. Turn back around and let me get a look at those tats." The doctor studied the heart tattoo on his chest and then the children's names that were inked onto his arm. "Simple but nice." He nodded his approval.

There was a knock at the door and one of the techs stuck her head in. "Doctor, Clara can get to him in about thirty minutes."

"Awesome. Tell her thanks." Turning back to the group he spoke to Matt again. "You can put that back on. Just hang out here until Clara comes for you. I'll catch up with you later." He held out his hand and the two shook. "CJ, it was great to see you again. It won't be so long next time. Most likely tomorrow. In the meantime…" He looked pointedly back at Houston. "You will not be driving, flying, roping, branding or anything else other than trying to find a comfortable position to rest in, and I'm calling in some meds. I'm told that your children have an excellent nurse for a nanny and she'll be sure that you take them." He saw the grumpy look on Matt's face. "Seriously, if that shifts the wrong way you could be in a heap of trouble. We're going to get it out of there within the next day or so."

"Get it out? As in…"

"As in I'm glad you didn't get a tat on your back; I'd hate to mess up good ink."

"Now wait a minute…"

"It's the only way. Talk to ya tomorrow." He left the room as the detective was still trying to let the thought of back surgery sink into his already stretched mind.

"I like him." Vince looked at the pair. "Sure knew how to handle this one." He pointed at Matt.

"I can't do that now."

"The hell you can't." Looking at her husband as if he had lost his mind, CJ popped a hand on her hip. "You don't have a choice in the matter."

"No."

"Yes. You heard what he said."

"I've got God only knows who all after me right now. I can't let my guard down, CJ."

Vince gave Matt an almost angry look. "And you've got people to watch your back - no pun intended."

"No."

"Mattlock William Houston, you WILL do what you're told."

His voice rising in anger, Matt looked fiercely at his wife. "I've about had it up to here," he held his hand at shoulder height, "With people bossing me around today!" He slammed his hand down onto the exam table, immediately regretting it as pain shot through his back taking his breath away.

Motioning about waist level, Vince angrily replied, "And if you keep acting like a jackass you might be in a damn wheelchair. Then it won't have so far to go to get you fed up. Think about the kids, man."

Leaning against the table for support and gasping in pain, Houston closed his eyes and tried to block it out. Feeling CJ move to his left side, her hand gently rubbing his back in small circles, he gulped down air and fought the urge to throw up. There was another knock at the door and the same tech entered. "Need a hip, hon. Doc Fitzpatrick wants you as relaxed as possible for the scan."

Two shots and a half hour later found him on the table of the CT scanner closing his eyes as the test began and he once again turned his attention back to the case. By the time it was completed forty-five minutes after that he was having trouble putting his shirt on, the buttons absolutely refusing to line up with the proper holes.

"I've got it, baby." CJ's voice sounded like it was coming from a long way off as she buttoned it for him. "Vince is bringing the truck around. Have a seat." She and the tech helped him into a wheelchair and in a minute he was being rolled down a corridor and out into blazing sunshine so bright he just couldn't keep his eyes open. He fumbled his way into the seat and felt the belt being fastened as he mumbled something about sunglasses. "Just keep your eyes closed. It'll be okay." She kissed his cheek and the door closed.

Back at the ranch he heard familiar voices as several hands removed him from the vehicle. He tried to move but heard Sheila speak to him. "No, sir. You let us take care of it." There was a sensation of floating through the air.

Marty, Ben, Scott, Emilio, Pat, and someone else that he couldn't identify gently laid him on the bed as CJ spoke. "Thanks again, guys."

"We'll be in the kitchen when you're ready, CJ." Marty followed the rest of the cowboys out of the room as Matt attempted to raise his head.

"Easy, hon. Just relax." CJ's voice came from the foot of the bed and he could faintly feel his boots being removed. Opening his eyes he tried to look around.

"Where the hell…"

"You're at home." Sheila's face seemed to ripple as he looked at her.

"No, it isn't."

CJ appeared at his side again. "It is, baby. Just not our bedroom. We're downstairs."

"Oh." He felt the shirt being unbuttoned and the lights seemed to dim as a warm feeling rolled over him. The voices faded and he was floating out into darkness.

At some point later, he heard hushed voices and a few of the words sifted into his brain. "She's been right by his side since we got him on the bed." _That's CJ talking._

"Really unusual." _Sheila._

"So do they know when?" _It couldn't be him._

"Within the next day or two. He said he hated to dope him up like that but Carol had warned him that he better." _CJ again._

"Too damn stubborn."

He tried to open his eyes when he heard the other voice again. "Cuz?"

"Right here, Matt." Will squeezed his right hand.

"When…"

"He was the surprise I told you about this morning." CJ was on his right side, too and reached out to stop him as he tried to move onto his side. "You need to stay put."

Pain cascaded through his back. "Gotta move." He gritted his teeth.

"Which way?" It was Will again and Matt pointed left. "Let us do it. You just try to stay relaxed." He looked worriedly at CJ and Sheila as his cousin broke out in a sweat.

Matt felt something being pulled under him as two pairs of hands steadied his back while another pair took hold of his legs. The pressure immediately backed off and his breathing calmed.

"Better?"

"Yeah. Thirsty."

In seconds he felt a straw at his lips and smelled a familiar scent of light perfume. _"Fácil, hijo. Madre Rosa es aquí."_

After a sip he moved his right hand slightly and felt a familiar fur coat. "Tilly." He could feel her tail thump on the bed as she pushed her head up under his hand. "Kids okay?"

"Everything is just fine, sweetie." He felt CJ's lips brush his cheek and got a glimpse of her eyes before his closed again.

Sheila's voice came from behind him now. "You're going to feel a little stick, sugar." He didn't feel that but did feel Tilly nuzzle him before everything went warm again and he floated away once more.


	11. Chapter 11

**11 - All Hands**

Eight o'clock Monday morning found Matt waking up in a somewhat familiar room. It took him a couple of minutes to fully open his eyes, but when he did CJ was right there stroking his face smiling at him. In a hoarse voice he spoke. "Y'all doped me. I heard you say so." He stared angrily at her.

"Yes, we did. And if you want to be mad at me that's just fine. We did it for your own good."

"Did it occur to you that we don't know a damn thing about this doctor?"

"You may not - Carol and I do. Like I said yesterday, they dated. He even proposed to her, but she turned him down to go on a medical mission in Africa right after graduation. I had no idea he was practicing here or I would have called him myself."

He shook his head, looking up at the ceiling. "CJ, I need to be at myself until we nail whoever's after me - not doped up or laying flat on my back."

"We've got the best security going, hon. And now Marty and the rest of the boys are helping out."

"You told them?" He tried to sit up quickly and sucked in a breath; his back was so stiff and sore he could hardly move.

"If you can't behave and take it easy I'll have Sheila give you another shot."

His voice was a growl. "Like hell you will."

She had fully expected him to be upset with her, but he was much angrier than she had anticipated.

Very slowly and carefully he managed to sit up on the side of the bed, pausing momentarily before easing to his feet and heading painfully to the bathroom, each step jarring not only his back but seemingly his brain. She leaned against the doorframe waiting on him and then followed him back out to the bed where he carefully sat back down. "I can't believe you did that to me." There was more than anger in his voice now; a tone of hurt came through.

"Dylan stopped by last night." She sat down next to him, the worry and fear in her voice painfully clear. "It's in a really bad spot, hon. He wants to admit you today, do an MRI, and operate first thing tomorrow morning." He stared at the wall. "If it doesn't get out soon, or shifts again…"

"I'm screwed."

"Yep."

He nodded. "I understand why you did it; but do you understand why I'm pissed?" His voice was very quiet, and they could hear the sounds of the kids playing drifting through the house.

She nodded, taking his hand in hers as her voice quavered. "Because of what happened when you were five."

"And the 'magician'." He knew she was holding back tears. "Not to mention having the guys carry me in…"

"I wasn't sure if you would remember that."

"I do. It's embarrassing."

"Hon, they're all worried about you. They would do anything for you."

There was a quiet knock at the door.

"Come in." He watched as Sheila stepped inside and gave her an angry stare as well.

"Doc Fitzpatrick is here." She looked at him, stepping aside so that the doctor could enter.

"And he is _pissed_. You called that one right, Sheila."

Matt said nothing, but gave him the same look.

"I thought given the current security situation that CJ explained…"

Matt raised his voice, exasperated. "Is there anyone you didn't tell, CJ?"

Fitzpatrick continued. "That you would be safer here at home until we absolutely had to admit you. We couldn't take a chance on you doing something stupid."

"You've got one hell of a bedside manner."

"I'm not going to kowtow to you if that's what you're thinking." Crossing his arms Fitzpatrick leaned against the wall. "If you'd rather have someone else take care of it for you…" The two men stared stubbornly at each other while CJ and Sheila looked between them.

The nurse broke the silence. "You can just be mad all you want, Mr. High-and-mighty, but you're going to have this surgery and get better. Over the last year you've had more and more trouble with it - no - don't interrupt me. If you don't like what I'm saying that's just too damn bad. There are a lot of folks who happen to care about you, obviously more than you care about yourself or those kids out there." She motioned over her shoulder.

The tone that met her was a low growl. "How _dare_ you say I don't care about them…"

"Then start acting like it. They need their daddy to stick around and help them grow up, teach them things that only he can." She started crying. "I didn't have that luxury."

Silence hung in the air. CJ cleared her throat. "What's done is done. Right now we need to move forward with this and get things back on track."

"What about security?" Matt's tone had changed.

"We thought everyone should be here when we discuss it. They're all waiting for you to give the okay."

"Alright." He shifted uncomfortably. "Where are my pants?"

"I strongly suggest that you lay back down, Houston." Fitzpatrick stepped forward. "You can have your meeting in here." He watched as the detective thought it over and finally nodded.

"Let's get you comfortable and then we can start, okay?" CJ stood and she and Sheila helped him get settled back on the bed.

The nurse straightened his blanket. "Want me to go get them?" He nodded, but stopped her as she began to turn away.

"Sheila…" She looked back at him. "I'm sorry." The answer was a nod and a pat on his arm.

In a couple of minutes the bedroom became very crowded. All the cowboys working at the ranch along with Roy, Will, Vince, George, and Chuck filed in. Matt's eyes showed his surprise as one other entered. Francine Martinez gave him a big smile.

"Well...hell. This sure isn't what I had planned." There were a few smiles from the group. "I did my best to keep y'all from getting involved in any of this mess. Except for George there. Bud, I want to thank you for all you've done."

The old private investigator broke into a grin. "Ain't done yet, boy." There was a general snicker.

"I guess Uncle Roy has been working with y'all on this?"

Roy nodded. "They've been brought up to speed on why we're on high alert and the attempts that have been made. We've put new procedures in place and every man here will be armed while on the property." He went over every aspect of the new procedures including those that had been added during his nephew's absence. "That okay with you?" He looked to the younger man for his approval.

Nodding slowly, Matt searched for anything that had been missed but couldn't think of a thing.

"Francine has set up the security for your hospital stay so I will turn this little soirée over to her." He nodded to the cowboys. "You fellas know what to do." They started to file out.

"Hang on…" They paused as their boss painfully adjusted his position. "I want to apologize to y'all for yesterday."

Marty looked taken aback. "Lemme ask you something, boss man. If Pat had broken his leg out in one of the pastures and we helped him get back up to the bunkhouse would he need to apologize?"

"Of course not."

"Then why the hell are you? It ain't like you went out and tied one on." There was a murmur of agreement. "That's what you do for a friend."

"I appreciate it." He watched as they filed out.

"Now…" Martinez pulled out a pad of paper and started going over the plan.

 _Tuesday morning..._

"Lieutenant?" Gabby Giovanni stuck her head inside the office.

"Yeah?"

"Got something interesting here…" She entered and approached the desk. "I just got back from a scene out on Naud. Looks like a body dump." Hoyt stared blankly at her. "I've got an ID on her courtesy of Houston."

"Oh?"

"We received this while you were in the meeting with the captain." Handing across a sheet of paper she waited while he read through it. It was a memo that had come in with a batch of ID's for illegal Chinese immigrants in connection with a case their friend was working for HCSO.

"Good. Did you let him know?"

"I tried - it's going to his voicemail." Both knew that didn't happen often. Hoyt picked up his phone and dialed with the same result. "Maybe he's tied up with something. I'll call Chuck." He called the other Texan: voicemail. "That's odd. Well, then…" Punching CJ's number he waited and was relieved when the phone was finally answered. "Good morning."

"I knew I forgot something." Her voice, although calm, sounded strained.

"What's wrong?" He listened as she explained that Matt had just been taken down to surgery and why.

"So it's from the explosion?"

Taking a cup of coffee from Vince, she shifted the phone to her left ear. "We don't know where it came from. Dylan had an MRI done on him yesterday evening and can't figure it out. All we know is it has _got_ to come out. He couldn't move his legs when we left the ranch."

Michael exhaled slowly. "So...do they think he'll be okay?"

"There's about a seventy five percent chance that he will be." She thought back to a short time earlier when she and the doctor had told her husband the same news. He had calmly nodded.

"What about the, uh, other problem? Do you need me to come down there?"

"No, Michael. You've got your hands full. Just send up a prayer for him if you would."

"Call me as soon as you know something."

"I will. I'm so sorry that I didn't call you last night."

"You had a lot going on. Let me know if you need me there."

"Thanks."

Michael ended the call, closing his eyes as he put the phone back down on the base.

"Is he alright?" Giovanni stood in shock as her boss relayed the news, noticing that the lieutenant was keeping his eyes tightly closed. "But…" She stood speechless. Suddenly she sat down in the chair, thinking back to about a year earlier when Houston had helped her with her first big investigation, which had been when the twins were born. "Should we tell the other guys?"

Hoyt opened his eyes and looked across at her. "Is Lee out there?" She nodded. "Call him in." He waited as she went to the door.

"What's up, LT?" The detective seemed to be in a really good mood.

"Close the door." Jennings did so and stepped up to the desk, an upset look replacing the happy one as Hoyt told him the news. "I don't want you to tell anyone else."

"But the rest of…"

"There's a good reason." After taking a deep breath he related Houston's other problem. "Do not breathe a word of this. I'm assigning you two to this on top of your regular caseload. Matt may want to kick my ass when he finds out; right now I just hope he will be able." Both noticed the strain in his voice.

Jennings nodded. "He's going to be fine. I mean this is Houston we're talking about. After all the other stuff he's been through he can get through this."

"Remember what I said: not a word to anyone." Both assured him. "And you report directly to me."

"Yes, sir." The two left as Michael opened the desk drawer and removed the bottle of antacid and took a big gulp, looking up at the light over his desk wishing that he was talking to the PI about taking the camera out of his office instead of bowing his head and sending up a prayer for him.

 _Meanwhile just outside of Dallas…_

"What in the holy hell were you thinkin' leaving the body there?" Donovan Lynch shoved the Cuban cigar into his mouth, a look of intense fury aimed at his ranch foreman. At forty five years of age, Zeke Varley stood six feet four inches tall and was two hundred forty pounds of lean muscle, his years of ranch work keeping him fit unlike his boss who had long ago gone to pot with excessive drinking and an appetite for expensive caviar. The only real sign of aging in the cowboy was the shiny dome of his head and the scant fringe that seemed determined to defy gravity, clinging onto what appeared to be infertile desert.

"It wasn't me. I sent Aguilar…"

"You sent him to goddamn Dallas to ditch her?"

"No. I just told him to get rid of her."

"Get him in here now." Lynch fumed as the man removed his cell phone and made a quick call. There was a knock on the door in a couple of minutes. Varley admitted the cowboy into the study. "Boy, have you got brain damage or something? Why in the hell did you dump her downtown?"

"I wasn't going to. I was taking her south. Then a cop started following me and…" He shrugged. "I got off at the next exit. Looked like a good place to dump a hooker and I sure didn't want to get pulled over with a dead body in the truck. I thought…"

"You don't get paid to think. It's obviously not somethin' you're accustomed to doing." He glared at the man, hardly more than kid. "Get out." He waited. "Get rid of him. Permanently. And not in goddamn Dallas." He watched as Varley turned toward the door of the room. "And this time do it yourself, Zeke."

Swearing profusely, he swiveled the chair to look out over the well-manicured lawns of the ranch situated northeast of Plano, TX and just west of Lavon Lake. The beginnings of the ranch had been humble enough. His great grandfather had bought a small parcel of twenty five acres and set down roots in the Texas soil, his only thoughts of the future resting on hopes of the children that he and his young bride were planning to bring into the world. The cattle business was a success as was the oil business that his eldest son embarked on. By the time Donovan was born, his great grandfather was long buried in the family plot, the ranch had swallowed up several other ranches, and the family was more concerned about money and status than hard work and fairness. He had grown up the oldest child and only son, learning from a young age at his father's knee that wealth and a knowledge of your enemy's weaknesses could change the outcome of just about any business deal. And if those didn't work, well...there were other less refined ways to get what you wanted. He himself had killed his first man at the age of sixteen in an argument over a girl and a lost drag race. Strangely enough she wasn't nearly as attractive to him after threatening to go to the law and had quickly become his second victim. With no other witnesses to what had happened he had staged a fiery crash that left him with nothing more than a ticket from the sheriff for his involvement in a race gone wrong, and a pat on the back from his old man on a job well done.

"Want something done right you got to do it yourself." He spoke out loud although there was no audience. _Maybe I should dump Barkowski's ass and…_ He shook his head, admitting to himself that Mattlock Houston would more than likely make mincemeat out of him in a fight. No, he was too old to be thinking about tangling with the younger man. Just look at what had happened to Elgin Cody a few years back. Houston was as good with his fists and a gun as he was in the boardroom and according to many a woman, the bedroom. Apparently those days were behind him though, unless Tamara Placer could be believed. He relit the cigar, thoughtfully puffing on it as he considered the reporter and her recent story about a supposed affair between the target of his hatred and that female sheriff down in Harris County. No, Martinez couldn't hold a candle to the Parsons gal. Still, it had been interesting to see how fired up the reporter's questions had made Houston at that press conference a week earlier, the thought bringing a wicked smile to his face. _She just might be a useful bit of fluff after all._


	12. Chapter 12

**12 - Two Down**

"Many here in Harris County are wondering why it is necessary to have a special guard on a man who purportedly is working as a detective sergeant." The live shot of Tamara Placer from just outside the gates of the Houston ranch came across the TV in the waiting room for the Surgical Intensive Care Unit and Vince angrily stood, obviously headed to turn off the offensive device. He was stopped by CJ's hand on his elbow. A calculating smile played across her face.

"I can't believe that bitch." The former cop sat back down next to her. "How can you stay so calm?"

"Think about it: she's there; Matt's not." Watching as what she said sunk in, her smile got bigger. "At the moment she's doing him a favor." There was actually a giggle from her. Placer had no clue that the target of her smear campaign was miles away in the hospital after a tense few hours of surgery.

"True." His tone changed. "But how did she find out about the security detail in the first place?"

"There _are_ patrol cars sitting outside the gate. I guess even she can add one plus one. But now that everyone else in the free world knows…"

"That keeps the kids even safer. And your old man."

"Yep."

He put an arm around her, giving her a little hug. "You know, marrying you is the smartest thing he's ever done."

Both looked up as Chuck opened the door and motioned them out into the hallway. "Doc wants you." He led the way back down the hall, the pistol he carried nearly invisible beneath the scrub top he was wearing. The doors of the SICU opened up for them, revealing two deputies posted just inside. After a walk down the hallway, he turned left where the nurse's station projected from the wall and proceeded to a glass enclosed cubicle, the blinds of which were tightly closed against any prying eyes. Two more scrub-clad deputies stood guard outside, both nodding to the group as they drew near. Chuck pushed the button that opened the sliding glass door and let them pass inside before him.

Much to her relief, CJ saw that Matt - although groggy - was now awake. "Hey, Cowboy." Kissing her husband's cheek she gave him a big smile.

The reply was a hoarse one. "Howdy."

"He's got something to show you." Fitzpatrick was standing on the other side of the bed, a smile on his face as his patient slowly and carefully moved his feet under the sheet that covered him.

"Phew!" She gave him another kiss, resting her forehead on his and trying to keep from tearing up.

"Aw, c'mon now. You didn't really think that there was going to be a problem, did you?" Fitzpatrick was grinning ear to ear.

"No, of course not." She pushed back one of Matt's curls, kissing his forehead.

"He's not going to be two-stepping in the next day or two, but it won't be long. We need to get that healed up real good before he gets into anything major. He needs a little vacation anyway from what I've been hearing."

"I think a trip to Tahiti might be just the thing when you're back on your feet." She gave him a wink.

"Maybe." He did his best to keep his eyes open.

"You get some rest and I'll let Madre Rosa and the others know. Love you."

"You, too."

"We're going to step outside and talk bad about you." The doctor checked the IV line.

"Thanks."

"Hey, you did me a favor. Carol is talking about making a trip down here now. Rest up."

Matt nodded, his eyes closing as the four went to a room located behind the nurse's station.

"I don't know what to say besides thank you." CJ dabbed at a couple of tears that slipped out, her quaking voice drawing Chuck to put an arm around her. Relief was beginning to take the place of the worry he had worn on his face all day, including the hours he had spent in the OR standing guard over his oldest friend as he lay helpless on the table.

"Just say that you'll encourage Carol to come for a visit." He grinned and then got serious. "I want to keep him here at least through Thursday. No lie - he came really close to some permanent damage. And when we get him home he's going to be on restrictions for a while."

"That'll go over like a lead balloon." Chuck gave a relieved laugh.

"I've got to call the ranch." Her hands shaking as she punched the number, she accepted a hug from Dylan.

"I'll catch up with you later. Gotta get back to work." He strode from the room as Vince and Chuck high-fived each other and CJ passed along the good news to the rest of the family. Her next call was to Hoyt, the lieutenant's cell phone being answered immediately.

"He's going to be okay."

There was an audible sigh of relief and he looked across the wreckage of what had once been a Honda CR-V at Jennings, mouthing the words _"Houston's OK"_ to the younger man who immediately pulled out his phone and placed a call. A hundred yards down the blocked off freeway Giovanni answered her phone and received the good news about their friend. She hung up, feeling a bit better. She hadn't known the PI as long as the other two detectives but like most of the others in their office, had benefited from his knowledge and help since her transfer.

Back at the side of the wreckage, the lieutenant wrapped up the phone call, turning his attention back to the mess in front of him. It wasn't just any wreck: tangled inside the mangled vehicle was the body of none other than Lieutenant Jessimina Valencia, a yellow parking stop sticking crazily through the windshield. The fire department crew was working along with the coroner's assistant and Captain Frank Withers rejoined the cop. "Guess you're going to call Houston in on this one, huh?"

"Wish I could." He saw the surprised look on the fireman's face. "He's in Texas." He didn't want to say too much, even though he knew that Withers and the PI got along well.

"Can't say I'm surprised. He sure missed his family while he finished up that class. Rich said it was downright pitiful." Conversation ceased as a tarp was used to shroud the remains of the car and driver. Hoyt's phone rang again. "Yeah, Valdez?"

"I think we might have something: looks like maybe it came from up here. How in the hell is beyond me." He was standing on the side of North Bronson where it crossed over the Hollywood Freeway looking down where it appeared that a parking stop had been removed.

"Be right there." Hoyt hung up. "Talk to you later, Cap." His mind went back to Matt as he got behind the wheel and worked his way to Valdez's location. Bad as the situation with the PI was, maybe it would be the factor that convinced him to retire. A nice quiet life raising his family, cows, and horses seemed like the best thing for him.

Hitting the lights as he double parked, the cop went to Valdez who pointed down where sure enough, a concrete parking stop had been removed. Scrape marks could be seen where it had been moved to the fence that had been cut, leaving yellow crumbles of concrete in a clear path.

"Insane." He turned to look across at the building across the street. "Collect any surveillance video they have. I'll get someone up here to process this."

Valdez wordlessly nodded and headed to do as he was told while Michael studied the area. _Damn thing had to weigh at least two hundred fifty pounds._ _Had to be more than one person._ Or did it? The body of Marina Berger flashed in his mind. Someone with incredible strength, someone really big had to have killed her. The ME had been shocked by the woman's condition. What would he say when he saw the condition that Valencia had been reduced to after the wreck? Two of the responding officers on scene had thrown up and Hoyt himself had already chewed four of the antacid tablets from the new roll that he had bought just the night before. With the captain already crawling his ass over the Berger murder and now a call from the chief this morning assigning him to the Valencia case, he could hardly swallow. God, he wished Matt was there.

His mind drifted back in time a few years to a case he'd called the PI in on before he and CJ had gotten married. As a matter of fact, it was while he was being patched up in the ER after tangling with the seven foot tall killer that the playboy millionaire had proposed to her. A smile flitted across his face until a jolt of fear went through him: could they be dealing with another giant of a man like that suspect? He knew for a fact that it wasn't the same man: he had made quite a splat on the concrete below him when the PI had kicked him off a cable car three hundred feet in the air.

After a tech showed up to process the scene, Hoyt made the drive back to the Central Precinct and rode the crowded elevator up to his office on the fourth floor. Once inside, he sat down behind his desk and began going through the file that Valencia had sent him on the case that Berger had been working. Although he knew that coincidences did occur, he also knew that the lieutenant had been more than a little shaken over the death of the undercover officer.

The information on Vasil Barkowski indicated that he was from Albania. Michael's mind froze: Matt's suspected attacker in Texas was from Albania. They had also discussed the possibility that the man who had kidnapped Kathy three months earlier was from that general area - unfortunately they had no proof of anything on the man's identity whatsoever. As far as the cop knew the body was still lying unclaimed in the city's morgue.

He proceeded. Although there was plenty of suspicion about the immigrant, no charges had ever stuck to Barkowski and he maintained a presence just below the radar. Rubbing his temples, he closed his eyes. First Berger had been killed and then Valencia. Both worked Vice and both had knowledge of Barkowski. Valencia had told him about the illegal immigrants that the man had working for him and now there was the tie to another illegal, courtesy of Houston - who might well be a target of the same man. Everything was pointing to Barkowski, but what he couldn't figure out was the timing of the deal with Houston: the man hadn't found out about the illegals until after the attempts on his life. Why had he been a target three months earlier?

He wanted nothing more than to pick up the phone and call Matt - run what he had on the situation by him and let him work his magic on the keyboard. Right now that wasn't an option and the fact that he had come to rely so heavily on the man's help smacked him in the face once again.

CJ was as good with digging up things on the computer as Matt - goodness knew. Unfortunately, she had her hands full now taking care of three kids and with a husband on the mend from surgery and his future somewhat uncertain at the moment, the cop was just going to have to do without the help that he had gotten so used to having.

A knock at his door brought him back to the present and he waved in Jennings and Giovanni. The young man pointed over his shoulder. "The press is down in the lobby - screaming for information on the wreck."

"We're not releasing anything until her family can be reached. Come in and close that door." He waited. "We're also not going to release the fact that it might be murder - or the fact that a parking stop went through the windshield."

"You said that she had talked to you about Berger…" Giovanni leaned against the windowsill. "The less we say about that case the better - is that what you're thinking?"

"I am. I think it would be better all the way around. Give us an element of surprise as well as keep us safer. We need to talk to Captain Withers and his crew - and anyone else who saw it. I'll talk to Withers. You two talk to the others." Both nodded and silently headed back out.

Punching in the number for the fire captain, Michael took a swig of antacid out of the bottle again. "Hey, Cap. I need to ask for a favor…"


	13. Chapter 13

**13 - In Plain View**

"Do we really have to have this conversation every single time your behind is in the hospital? 'Cause I'm really tired of saying it and I'm sure you're tired of hearing it." Sheila stood with a hand on her hip after giving her boss the "eat-the-gelatin-or-else" speech for what seemed like the thousandth time. It was then that she saw a little twinkle in his eye and a crooked grin began to spread across his face - the first she had seen since his surgery. When she had come in Tuesday night to relieve CJ he had been fast asleep and had remained so pretty much until mid-day Wednesday. After a bout of nausea the rest of that day and night, he was finally starting to show signs of his usual stubborn self and she was relieved.

"Let me talk to Michael and I'll eat it."

"You eat it and I'll let you talk to him."

"Meet you halfway." The grin got bigger and she rolled her eyes and shook her head, smiling herself. "Deal. But you can't get all fidgety - Doc's orders." She handed the bowl and spoon back to him, holding his cell phone hostage until half of the contents were gone.

"Give it." He took the device and punched the cop's number.

"Houston?" The cop sounded relieved.

"Yup. How's it goin', Gramps?"

"Not bad." That was a lie. He had just been chewed out again for the lack of progress in the cases of Berger and Valencia. His hand had just landed on the handle of the desk drawer when it happened once again.

"You'd hate to be a liar. You've been wearing that bottle of antacid out, haven't you?" Houston had absolutely no idea why he had said it - it was just a gut feeling. But instead of the usual grumbling about removing the non-existent camera, there was laughter on the other end of the line. The PI felt the nurse prod him, urging him to eat the rest of the gelatin and he took a spoonful.

"Nah." Michael breathed a sigh of relief. Other than being a little tired-sounding the Texan seemed pretty much his usual self.

"Bet Anne would tell me different."

"So are you home yet?" He tried to change the subject. If Houston knew what was going on he would likely try to get out of the bed and attempt a return to Los Angeles.

"No. Was supposed to go home today but it looks like they're going to hold me hostage until tomorrow." He handed the now empty bowl back to Sheila with a grin.

"CJ probably begged them to keep you there so she can have some peace and quiet. The way you snore it's a wonder she gets any sleep."

"Look who's talking. So what's going on there?" Although he couldn't say just why, he had the feeling that Hoyt was doing his best not to let something slip.

"Same old thing - crazy people doing crazy things. Has your girlfriend Tamara been to see you?"

"No. Far as we can tell she doesn't know I'm here. Evidently I'm still at the ranch." He snickered. "And you're behind the times - I'm having an affair with Martinez - remember?"

"So many women. Seems like the old days." Hoyt leaned back in the desk chair, his mood much improved now that he had actually spoken to his friend.

"So now give me the truth, Michael: what is it you're trying not to tell me?" There was no playing around in the voice now.

"Nothing. Just the standard Los Angeles stupidity."

"You know I know better." He caught the look of warning that Sheila was giving him.

"Nah."

"I can find out, ya know. I have ways." There was a hint of humor now, but the seriousness was still present.

"We'll talk about it after you get back to the ranch."

"We better." He could hear a knock at the door and the voice of clerk Merlin Jackson.

"Gotta go, PI. You behave or Sheila is going to put a whoopin' on you."

"She wishes. And I meant what I said - you better tell me when I get back home."

"Talk to you later." Hoyt ended the call.

"I'll take that back now." Sheila took the phone away from him.

"You're getting bossier in your old age, ya know that?"

"I'll show you old age, mister. Keep on and I'll tell them to use the biggest needle they can find next time you need your meds."

"Doesn't matter - it's going in the IV." He grinned as he pointed to his left arm.

"I can arrange different."

"Spoilsport. So…" He eased slightly onto his right side, the pain he was feeling now not nearly what it had been before the surgery. "What's up with you and Marty?"

"I…" The nurse stuttered. "None of your business." She tried to hide a smile.

"He's a good guy." Matt's tone softened. "He's had some tough licks in his life." He watched as she busied herself with straightening his blanket after easing a pillow behind him. "I'm glad y'all are getting along."

"Hush up and get some rest so we can get back to the ranch."

"Why - miss your boyfriend?" He winked at her and gave a chuckle.

"Yeah, just like you miss your two girlfriends Tamara and Francine."

At the ranch, Roy entered the study that had become a command center. "Marty said you had something?"

George nodded, waving him around the desk. "While we were busy getting Houston taken care of Lynch was busy, too. You ain't gonna believe this fool." He moved aside so that the former CIA operative could have a seat in front of what was now a bank of computer monitors that would have made the folks down the road at NASA envious. Roy clicked to play the video that the critter had recorded and shook his head in disbelief as Lynch and Varley talked about the dead woman and ordered the murder of the man who had dumped the body.

"Bill was right all those years. I thought he was overreacting somewhat."

"He's been getting away with so much for so long he has absolutely no boundaries anymore." George pulled out the vape pen that he was trying out. Madre Rosa wouldn't tolerate smoking in the house, especially with the kids in the picture now. He had thought the little woman was going to string him up the day before when he had lit up in the study - and he had found out that the bathroom with the fan on wasn't a good idea either. She had threatened him with a broom that time and Vince had suggested the smokeless device.

The elder Houston rubbed his chin as he considered the matter. "For right now we keep this under wraps. As soon as Mattlock is able, we need to bring him up to speed; at some point this will have to be presented to Francine...or someone. We'll have to figure out the best and safest route to take."

There was a knock on the door and Roy killed the playback as George checked to see who it was and admitted Vince into the room.

"Our favorite lawyer may need a lawyer if Derwin doesn't back off." He sat down on the loveseat.

Roy rolled his eyes. "Now what?"

"He's insisting on talking to Houston. Says that he's going to pursue legal action if he doesn't get to Quantico."

George looked blankly between the pair. Although neither of the other two men completely understood the extent of the job that Matt and Derwin's company was working on for the government, both knew that it had something to do with the military. It was then that they could hear CJ approaching the study, her voice sounding agitated. Vince opened the door, she came inside, and he quickly closed it behind her.

"Derwin, as I've already explained there is no way that he can get there right now and I can't give you an estimate of when he…" There was a raised voice on the other end of the call and the three men in the study remained silent as she drew in a deep breath and replied, proceeding to talk right over him. "No, you listen to me, you sawed off little twerp, because this is the last time I will tell you. There is no way Matt can physically be there - and if you call one more time you won't be able to be there either until they remove my boot from your ass." She disconnected the call as the men involuntarily and collectively held their breath.

George finally broke the silence. "And _that,_ gentlemen, is why you don't piss off a cowgirl."

Giving his niece a wink, Roy put an arm around her. "Don't think they taught you that boot phrase at Harvard."

"No, that's a Texas thing." She took another deep breath. "Sorry to interrupt. Didn't want to say that in front of the kids."

"Are we still on track for Matt to come home tomorrow?" Roy looked to Vince who had been coordinating the security between the ranch and HCSO.

"Yup. Talked to Sheila a few minutes ago. He's a lot better. Even called Michael."

"Good deal." Roy looked around at the group. "I'll feel better myself when we get him back where he belongs."

 _In Los Angeles…_

"That's insane." Lee Jennings stared at the monitor where he had just seen a hulking hooded figure use a pair of bolt cutters to cut a large section of the chain link fence over the Hollywood Freeway before employing a crowbar to remove the parking stop. In a matter of minutes he was tossing the chunk of concrete and rebar down onto the unsuspecting lieutenant's car. "He's gotta be working with someone else to be able to know when she's passing underneath there."

"Uh huh." Hoyt rewound the footage. "I talked to Houston earlier by the way. He sounds pretty good. Should be going home tomorrow."

"Good. Any idea how long he'll be out of commission?" Jennings watched the footage again.

"Not yet."

"What else do we know about Barkowski? Do we know who he has working for him?"

"Not really. But…" The lieutenant rubbed his tired eyes. "I think we need to start surveillance on him. To say that we need to be careful about it is the understatement of the century."

"Obviously." Giovanni nodded her agreement. "Does Houston know about this guy?"

"No." Hoyt's swift answer took both detectives by surprise. "I'm afraid to let him know right now."

Jennings plopped down on the lieutenant's couch. "We could sure use his help - or CJ's for that matter. And if there's a chance that he's behind this…"

"I'm going to talk to Roy about it first. He'll know when the time is right to let Matt know. The last thing we want is for him to do something stupid."

"One thing about it: he can dive into this guy on the computer no matter where he is - and it won't hurt his back."

Back in Houston on Friday morning, Matt was released from the hospital and in short order was on a gurney in the back of veterinarian Art Mulrooney's van, with Chuck and Deputy Greg Bivens at his side. "So whose idea was this?" He motioned to the van.

"Marty's." Chuck grinned.

"I like the way he thinks." Bivens gave a laugh. "Nobody is going to think twice about the vet's van going to a ranch."

Mulrooney spoke up from the front of the van. "If he tries to get squirrelly back there just let me know. I'll hit him with the tranquilizer gun."

"Sheila would love that." Houston laughed. After making it back to the ranch without incident, the detective was moved inside and transferred to the first floor bedroom that he had occupied a few days previously. Chuck gave him a sad shake of the head. "What?"

"Didn't take CJ long to kick you out of your bedroom."

"You don't really think I'll be sleeping alone do ya?" He grunted slightly as he carefully adjusted his position in the bed.

"Tilly don't count, pard." All three men cracked up as CJ stuck her head in the door.

"Are you ready?"

"Yup." The moment Matt had been waiting for for days had finally come: the three young Houston children were allowed into the room, the first time they had seen their dad since he had left for the hospital. All three wore wide smiles that perfectly matched that of their father.

"Easy now - remember what we talked about." CJ lifted Vinny up onto the bed as Bivens gave Mike a boost. Catey had been the first to reach her dad and although she was being careful, had thrown her arms around his neck and was covering his face with kisses.

"So have y'all been good while I was gone?"

"Uh huh. We've been extra good. Just like you asked." She moved aside so that her brothers could give and receive a hug from him.

Vinny sat down next to his dad. Much like their sister, the twins were quite the talkers with outgoing personalities. The excitement in his little voice caused all the adults in the room to laugh. "S'prise?"

"Well, what would y'all think about us taking some of the building block ideas that you've had and turning them into a playground out back?"

"For real?" Mike's favorite phrase was employed once again as he looked amazed.

"Yep. I thought that the four of us could figure out what we wanted to build while I finish getting better. And then once Doc gives the okay we can work on building it together." The idea was met with squeals of excitement and a little more bouncing around than CJ thought safe.

"Okay, you three. Take it easy now."

"So now I've got a job for y'all: start working on what you think would be good for our little project. Can you do that?"

"Uh huh."

"Alright. Let's let Daddy get some rest." CJ began helping them back down off of the bed and as Catey started out the door, she turned and with a somewhat dramatic look on her face, pointedly looked at her father.

"I don't know if we should let you work on it, Daddy."

"Why not?"

"You might get another boo-boo."

Chuck was in tears from laughing so hard by the time the kids had scampered down the hallway, excitedly hunting for Madre Rosa to tell her the good news. "She's got a point."

"Shut up, Chuck." Matt just shook his head. He turned his attention to CJ. "Where's Uncle Roy?"

"He should be along any minute now." She began fussing over his blanket until he reached for her hand and gently pulled her over to have a seat on the side of the bed.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Bull. Out with it." He took her face in his right hand as she began shaking her head and looked into her eyes. "Now."

"Derwin has been calling."

There was a big sigh. "What did he screw up this time?"

"How should I know? All he'll say is…"

"Lemme guess." He did his best impersonation of his BugBytes and Mosey Games business partner. _"He has to to get to Quantico right now!"_ Although laughing at the accurate impersonation, he could tell she was worried. "You still got my phone?"

"You're not going to…"

"I'm not going to Quantico. I'm going to make a phone call and I'll bet you I can have the whole thing straightened out in less than half an hour." His confident tone and his calm demeanor won her over and she handed him the phone. "Chuck, I hate to boot you and Bivens out, bud…"

"Oh, never mind us. We're just the lowly county employees at your beck and call - at least according to the Piranha." He grinned and held out his hand to his longtime friend. "Glad you're back home, man. I've got to get to the office and take up the slack since you're being so lazy lately. Call if you need me."

"Thanks for everything." The pair shook and then hugged, then Matt thanked the other deputy before they left.

"Give me about half an hour, Babe."

"Sheila is going to -"

"Sheila is going to give me half an hour. And tell Uncle Roy I want to see him after that."

"You need to rest."

"I will." They shared a kiss and she left as he punched a number into his phone.

Half an hour later, Roy knocked on the door of the bedroom. "Come in."

The elder Houston entered along with Vince and George. "Did you get Derwin's panties out of his crack?"

"Don't know - didn't talk to him. I dealt with someone who actually knows how to listen. Problem solved and I didn't have to do diddly."

"Good deal. If CJ could have gotten her foot through the phone the other day, your partner would have had a foreign object up his tailpipe."

"I tell ya what…" Matt carefully changed position in the bed. "If he can't learn how to listen better we may not be partners much longer. You would think he would have learned by now not to try to tinker with something that he knows absolutely…" Stopping, he shook his head. "Nuff said. Now, I want to know what if anything have y'all gotten on Lynch while I've been gone." He saw the look that the three exchanged and waited as Roy nodded his assent to George.

The PI handed a laptop to Matt. "See for yourself. He's up to his usual."

Matt opened the device and started the video that was cued up where Lynch first yelled at his ranch foreman for the location of the disposal of Jinghua Dai and then ordered Varley to take out the young cowboy who had done the body dump. "You old SOB." He stopped the playback and looked to George. "Do we know for sure that this Aguilar fella got taken out?"

"Yup." George advanced the recording to what the timestamp showed to be the next day and the men listened to Varley confirm that Aguilar was "taken care of" as he put it.

"We need to see if we can get an ID on Aguilar - a description and…" Matt paused, the knowledge that he really shouldn't have any way of having the information about the dead cowboy or the fact that he had done the body dump of the Chinese illegal coming to mind and he stopped mid-sentence and shook his head.

Roy quietly spoke. "You'll give yourself away and none of it will be admissible in court, Mattlock."

"Yeah, I know." Leaning his head back he closed his eyes for a minute. "We've got to figure out a way to let somebody know, Uncle Roy - without implicating ourselves." He felt the laptop move and raised his hand to retrieve it from his uncle. The attempt was unsuccessful.

"Right now you need to get some rest."

"I'm fine."

"Uh huh. Tell it to somebody who will believe it."

"What else have we got?"

"I think that's enough for right now. We can talk more later." There was a quick knock at the door and then Sheila and CJ reappeared.

"Your meds are overdue. We're not playing that game." Sheila advanced on him, a bottle of water in one hand and a container of pills in the other.

"Good luck, boy." George gave a laugh and the group of men hastily retreated from the bedroom.

Once safely back inside the study, they looked at each other, Roy breaking the quiet. "What do you think, Vince?"

"I'm going to state the obvious. We've got a person inside: the maid. Nobody could be a bit surprised if she approached the cops there with inside information."

"She would probably be put in witness protection." Roy sat down behind the desk.

Sitting down next to Vince on the loveseat, George pulled out the vape pen. "And that might be a problem: I promised her that she would be paid for helping us out."

"We can work something out." Roy leaned back, letting out a big sigh.

Vince looked at him worriedly. "You alright?"

The older man nodded. "I'm relieved. He's doing a lot better than I expected."

"He's going to be fine. Just needs to follow through with what the doc tells him."

"The voice of experience."

"Yep." The former cop stood up and stretched. "Time for me to get off my butt and get to work with Will."

"How far along are you two?"

"We're about to start on the river access. Marty and Ben and a couple of the guys will be with us. They need to know how to deal with the sensors when the time comes."


	14. Chapter 14

**14 - Too Much of a Coincidence**

Besnik Dibra swore violently at the TV in the motel room that he had moved into two days earlier. The news that there was now a security detail on his target's home had him feeling somewhat exposed and he had now dyed his blonde hair a dark brown, quit shaving, and changed to another assumed name when he made the move to another cheap motel. His phone rang and once again he swore before answering yet another call from the man who was now his employer.

"What the hell did you do to clue him in?" Barkowski was speaking through clenched teeth. If he could lay hands on the hired assassin he would gladly strangle him.

"Nothing."

"Nothing is exactly what I'm _not_ paying you for. I want action and I want it now!" He held the phone out as he screamed into it.

"I will do the job when the time and the place are right." He didn't raise his voice - he couldn't afford to draw attention to himself for any reason at all for fear of being found out.

"Maybe you need to make them right. Draw his ass out of hiding."

"I call my own shots."

"You do as you're told: make it happen - soon. Or else the shot will be called on you. _A e kuptoni mua?_ "

"Yes, I understand you." He ended the call. Never before had he ever had so much trouble taking out a mark. Since the day he had seen Houston on horseback at the river's edge he had cursed himself. It could have been settled that day, very easily, and with no witnesses. All it would have taken was one shot. There was a cracking sound and a warm sensation went down his left wrist as the pieces of the bottle that he had been holding cut into his flesh. He swore again headed toward the room's sink, kicking the rusted and dented trash can out from under the vanity and dropping the remains of the beer container. Very carefully, he picked out a couple of shards of glass that had embedded themselves in his palm. "Stupid…" He couldn't make a trip to the ER - there would be too many questions. Once he was sure that he had all of the glass out, he rinsed the cuts for several minutes and then cracked open another beer and poured the alcohol over them, seething with pain and anger. Next he grabbed one of the towels that the overworked and underpaid housekeeper considered clean and wrapped it, raising his wounded hand into the air to stop the flow of blood. He needed real first aid supplies. Grabbing up the key off of the worn and dusty dresser, he left the room and went next door to the convenience store, buying the needed supplies plus another six pack. Back in the room he went about the task of cleaning the cuts again and applying ointment and bandages, all the while trying to come up with a plan.

Once patched up, he began pacing around the room, asking himself why he hadn't taken the shot that day on the river. He had looked like an ordinary guy out fishing. But the fish he was looking to land had gotten away because he had hesitated and then lost his nerve. Bad as he hated to admit it, Barkowski was right: he was going to have to find a way to draw the man out and at this point the weakest area in the Houston compound was in fact the last place he had seen him. It appeared that an approach from the waterway was his best option. But when? That was the question.

Matt awoke early Saturday morning from the recurring dream, noting that nothing new had been revealed to him. CJ's steady breathing as she lay with her head on his chest was something that he had missed the last few mornings. It had taken him quite a while the night before to convince her to get in the bed, that he wasn't in danger of snapping like a twig in a tornado. As he lay there in the predawn light he noticed that for the first time in ages he wasn't actually hurting so much as he was just sore and stiff. The plan for the day was for him to start moving more, and he could just imagine the hovering about that Madre Rosa would be doing. She was happier with more people to take care of, but he was worried. He got the impression that she thought that he was retiring because of the surgery. In a conversation between her and Catey Rose that centered around the new playground, the housekeeper had said something along the lines of _"since you live here now"_. The last couple of days had given him time to think about his future. All the recent talk of retirement, of moving back to Texas permanently was obviously going to happen one day; on the other hand he had just spent a lot of time taking classes and getting on the job training for fire investigation. What sense did it make to get the certification and then just hang it uselessly on the wall? And as long as it had taken him to complete the training with various delays, it really wasn't fair to the Fire Marshal's Office.

No, he wasn't retiring just yet. But he was going to cut back on some of his commitments. And he had decided that one of them, strangely enough, was going to be his work with the FBI's Child Exploitation Task Force. He fully intended to share any pertinent information that he garnered with them, but their work with the group had been hit and miss at best. CJ had actually done more work with them than he had due to his involvement with the combat simulator. Although he thought highly of the team, his gut instincts were telling him that it just wasn't meant to be.

The recent problems with Derwin Dunlap were also bearing on him. He fully intended to see the combat simulator through to its conclusion and planned to spend part of the day talking with the computer genius, trying to work on the problems that they were having, most of which in his opinion stemmed from the lack of physical knowledge on Dunlap's part. He simply couldn't comprehend the physical and mental stress that the troops went through because it was something that he himself had never done. That was going to change as soon as Matt was cleared from his current medical limitations. Either Derwin would agree to leave his specifications in place or Houston would find a way to take control of BugBytes. It had been a long time since Matt had taken over a company and it wasn't really something that he wanted to do unnecessarily. Plus, it was sure to cause a rift between them in their business interests of Mosey Games. Regardless, things had to change.

CJ stirred slightly, a smile flitting across her face and bringing to mind their discussions about another baby. He was all for it. Both had agreed that they wanted a big family. The concerns that he had about the possibility of her conceiving twins again weren't deterring her a bit and they had decided the night before that when Doc Fitzpatrick cleared him they were ready to try. He smiled thinking about it, and then closed his eyes, hoping to get a little more sleep before starting the day.

 _6:00AM Los Angeles…_

"But it's Saturday." Anne Hoyt was sitting up sleepily in her bed, watching as Michael stood in front of the mirror putting on his tie. "You haven't taken a day off in over a week. What in the world has you so worried?"

"It's just busy, honey. You know that." He had gotten home around nine o'clock the night before.

"Why don't you see if Houston will come back from Texas and help you out a little bit? I'm sure…" She watched as he vehemently shook his head. "Don't tell me you're mad at him again."

"No, of course not. He's busy working for the sheriff."

"Huh. Not according to Tamara Placer."

"Why do you watch that woman?" He turned to face her, slipping on his jacket.

"What else do I have to do? Kathy's gone all the time with her friends and you're always at work. Besides, she's good for a laugh. Oh, her latest now is that Houston has a security detail from the sheriff's office guarding the ranch - like he needs…" She paused, noting the worried look on Michael's face. "So that's what it is. Is someone shooting at him again?"

"Haven't you learned by now that you can't believe anything that woman says?"

"But the cameras have been showing patrol cars outside the gate." He turned back to the dresser and began putting items into his pockets. She watched as he pulled a roll of antacid tablets out of the dresser drawer. "Michael…" She crossed the room and took him by the hand. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me. Turn around here." He did and she looked into his tired eyes. "There's something going on with Houston, isn't there? Give me the truth." Again, he silently denied it. "Fine." She went to the closet. "I'll just call CJ later."

"He's recovering from back surgery. And yes - there is someone after him. And I think that he's based here in Los Angeles. But please don't say anything to anyone - anyone at all - including Kathy."

"Did he get hurt in that accident on the bridge?"

"Yes and no." He saw the exasperated look. "They think that it dislodged a bone fragment. But they can't figure where it came from."

"Is he okay?"

"He will be. Before they took him to surgery the other day he couldn't move his legs. He's back at home now - and yes he can move them." He saw the question forming before she had the chance to ask it. "Now - I've got to get going."

"Please be careful."

"I will. Love you." They shared a kiss and she watched as he quietly left the room, the sound of the car's engine fading away down the street a minute later.

Hoyt stepped off the elevator into the lobby of his fourth floor office and found Giovanni pouring a cup of coffee. "How did it go?"

She yawned. "Absolutely nothing. He stayed at his office until ten, went to a club until two, then back to his condo with some woman. Lee took over at six and he was still there."

"Do we know who the girl was?"

"No idea. I couldn't get a clear picture of her."

"Alright. Go home, get some rest."

"Maybe you should take your own advice. You look like hell." She saw the perturbed look. "Hey, I just call 'em like I see 'em."

He pointed to the elevator. "Go." Inside his office he glanced through the reports that had been left there by the night shift. Nothing much out of the ordinary, unfortunately. More people killing and maiming each other for no good reason. Rolling away from his desk, he walked over to the window and looked down at the cars below. Roy had called him the night before and given him an update on Matt. He thought that today would be a good time to bring him up to speed on what was happening in Los Angeles. Most likely he would be receiving a phone call from the Texan and he planned to ask for a favor.

Chuck sat down behind his desk and looked across at the other desk in the cubicle, the nameplate on it catching the light: _Det. Sgt. Matt Houston._ Although he now knew that his oldest and best friend was going to be alright, he wasn't sure what the future held for him. Doc Fitzpatrick seemed to think that he would make a complete recovery. But did that mean that he would be returning to HCSO? Did he really want to - considering the other problems that he was dealing with? Chuck knew that his old friend had pissed off a lot of people - some of them powerful. Donovan Lynch was the worst - that he knew of, and with Houston moving back and forth between Texas and California, he was sure that there were plenty that he didn't know about. Taking a sip of coffee he thought about some of what he had heard at the ranch about Matt being in Quantico. He didn't know much about the place other than the FBI was headquartered there and there was a heavy Navy and Marine presence. Houston had mentioned that he and CJ were working with a task force headed by the FBI. However the secrecy surrounding his phone call the day before and the fact that even CJ didn't know what Dunlap was in a twist over - led him to believe that it was in relation to the military.

"How's the patient?" Martinez's voice cut through his thoughts as she had a seat in the cubicle.

"Haven't talked to him or CJ so far today. But he was sure happy to get home."

"Good."

He looked to her. "I'm glad you put your foot down with him about seeing a doc. Thanks."

"I am, too." She nodded. "I just hope we can get him back." Both were quiet. "So we've gotten info back from Dallas, LA, and Chicago on three of the illegals. Have there been any others?"

"Let me check." He began going through his messages and emails. "Seattle. This one was a guy."

"Was as in dead?"

Chuck nodded as he swallowed more coffee. "Seems how we keep finding them."

"Not exactly the American dream is it?"

"No, ma'am."

Looking at her watch, she stood. "Gotta get back to it. Keep me posted."

"Yes, ma'am."

 _10:45 AM Houston_

"Easy now." CJ felt herself holding her breath as Matt eased down into the recliner in the den. "Okay?"

"Yeah." He let out a big sigh and smiled. "Actually it's better than okay. Damn near perfect."

"Language." She gave him a disgruntled look, but couldn't be too angry with him. He had done everything that the therapist had asked of him that morning and was seemingly surpassing what had been expected of him. "Are you hurting?"

"Not really. Just kinda tired. Where's my phone?"

"In my pocket."

"I want to call Michael."

"You really ought to take it easy for a while."

"I don't think talking on the phone is going to be strenuous, Babe." He held out his hand.

"But you agree to stay put for a while, right?" She held the device just out of his reach.

He responded with the henpecked voice. "Yes, dear. Now gimme." Punching the cop's number he watched her leave the room. "Hey, Gramps."

"How's it going this morning?" Hoyt gratefully sat down behind his desk.

"Fine. Just got done with the physical therapy and made it to my recliner."

"Good. Wish I was in mine." The obvious weariness came through his voice.

"So tell me what happened - and don't give me that bull about the usual LA crazies again. Something is going on."

"Well…" Hoyt sipped on the bottle of water. "Yes, there is. Has Chuck mentioned that Gabby had a hit on one of the Chinese illegals?"

"No, but I haven't talked to him yet today. Guess you get the honor of telling me."

"Uh oh. Is CJ around?"

"From the sound of things she and the twins are having a discussion about flushing things that ought not be flushed. Guess they're a little advanced for their age. Catey was about two when she discovered that pastime." The chuckle that followed caused Hoyt to laugh.

"No doubt about it - they're your kids."

"Don't change the subject."

"I don't know if I should tell you just now. CJ might rather-"

"Just so we're clear here: the surgery was on my back - not my brain. Out with it."

"Is Roy around?"

"Don't make me turn on that camera in your office and eavesdrop, Michael." He did his best to keep the laughter out of his voice. He could just imagine the cop suddenly looking up at the light over his desk.

"Damn it, Houston! I want that thing out of here!"

"Can't do that right now. Doc won't let me climb a ladder. But I can hear details of a case." He couldn't help cracking up.

"You...you…" The spluttering noises he was making just caused more laughing on the other end of the call. "Oh, alright. Gabby had a call to a DB over on Naud. Seems to have been a body dump. Anyway, the girl was one of the Chinese illegals on the list that you and Chuck sent out."

"Small world we live in. She got any leads on it?"

"No. Other than the ID."

"What was the cause of death?"

"Exsanguination."

"And you said it was a body dump."

"Yep. She bled out somewhere else. Had several stab wounds, but a cut to her jugular was the one that did her in."

Matt waited. "And?"

"That's all we have on it. No other usable evidence at the scene, no witnesses, nothing."

"What else is going on?" He looked up as Roy entered the den.

"Oh, nothing much."

"I know better."

The elder Houston spoke up. "Is that Michael?"

"Yep, and he's holding out on me."

"Put it on speaker." He sat down on the couch to Matt's left. "Go ahead and tell him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Remember I told you the other day that we had lost an undercover vice officer?"

"Uh huh."

"She had been planted at a strip joint owned by a guy named Vasil Barkowski. She was looking into the hiring of illegal aliens." There was a pause.

"Okay."

"Anyway, when she was found she had a broken wrist...and it looks like somebody strangled her...with one hand."

"One hand? Must've been King Kong."

"Tuesday morning while you were in surgery I got called out to the scene of a wreck on the Hollywood Freeway. Lieutenant Jessimina Valencia, of the Vice Squad was killed."

"And from the sound of your voice I'm guessing it was no accident."

"No. Somebody tossed a parking stop off an overpass and through her windshield."

"A parking stop? Those things weigh what? Every bit of two hundred fifty pounds?" He stopped. "Damn. So just maybe whatever giant killed the UC killed her boss, too?"

"That's what we're thinking."

Matt rubbed the back of his neck, trying to get rid of the feeling of his hair standing on end. "This Barkowski guy - what do you know about him?"

Michael took a deep breath before replying. "Besides the fact that he has a history of hiring illegals... he's from Albania."

"Son of a bitch." All three remained quiet as Matt thought it over. "That's too damn much of a coincidence. So what are your plans?"

"I've got Lee and Gabby keeping tabs on him. And I'd like to ask you for-"

"Y'all need the van. Go talk to Chris. She's got a set of keys to it."

"That's exactly what I was going to ask. Thanks."

"I'm guessing that you have them working in shifts?"

"I do. Lee is on right now."

"Alright. I'm going to call him right now. Then…" He started to move and remembered that he had promised CJ that he would stay put for a while. "Uncle Roy, would you bring my laptop in here, please?"

"Sure you're up to it?" The raised eyebrow look that he received brought a smile to his face and he nodded before getting up and heading to the study.

"Anything else you've been holding out on me about?" Matt returned his attention to the cop.

"We all thought it was best, Matt. You had enough to deal with. So how does it feel?"

"Truthfully? Like I've been poked and prodded. But the real hurt is gone." He dropped his voice. "I didn't realize just how much it had been hurting. It's like getting a second wind now that it's gone. The crazy thing is that we can't figure out where it came from."

"I'm just glad you had a good surgeon there to take care of it."

"Yeah, he's a good guy. Wasn't too sure about him but he and CJ and Carol were all friends at Harvard."

"See what you missed out on while you were in Iraq?" Hoyt laughed but noticed that his friend didn't. "You still there?"

"Yeah…" Houston sat there stunned for a minute. "And I think I may have just figured out where the fragment came from."

"Oh?"

"Iraq."


	15. Chapter 15

**15 - Back to Work**

Vince hung up the cell phone and placed it back in his pocket, looking down the fence line that ran near the river at the back of the ranch. Will, Marty, and Ben walked away from the tractor that Pat had just started. "Roy just called. Houston's on the phone with Michael and just got brought up to speed."

"He's not gonna try to run off to LA is he?" Marty had been afraid that the boss would immediately try to go after the guy that Roy had told them about that might be responsible for the attempts on the cowboy's life.

"Nope. He's about to run all over the keyboard, though." The former cop chuckled.

"CJ's okay with that?" Ben had a worried look on his face.

"Guess so. One thing about it - with him and CJ both able to concentrate on the problem, that dude's life is about to get a lot more complicated."

Another pickup pulled up with several rolls of cable in the back. Ben raised the ball cap that covered his head and adjusted it. "So this stuff can let you know if somebody crosses onto the property, huh?"

"Yep. It can pinpoint their location within ten feet. Right now it's the best thing on the market." Vince helped the foreman of the horse ranch pull a roll to the tailgate and set it into a device that would help feed it out into the trench that Pat had just dug with the tractor. "We're going to run it at the PH, too." Talking became nearly impossible as Scott fired up another tractor that would be used to backfill the trench once Vince and Will were certain that the cable had been installed correctly.

Back at the house, Matt dialed the number for LAPD Detective Lee Jennings, smiling as the call was answered almost immediately. "How's it goin', bud?"

"Houston? Good to hear from you. How're you feeling?" Jennings was surprised at the call.

"A lot better already. Look, I just got off the phone with Michael. He's going to get y'all the keys to my van."

"That would be a big help. With that color change paint you've got on it we can swap things up to keep from drawing so much attention."

"Call me when you get it and I'll give you a crash course on the cameras that are installed."

"We sure appreciate it."

"Well, hopefully we're all going to be benefitting from it." The PI chuckled as he took the laptop from Roy and opened it up.

"Soooo…" Lee had a big smile on his face. "I've got some news for you."

"Oh?"

"Uh huh. Guess who's expecting?" The detective's face was beaming.

"About time." Matt laughed as he thought back to the day that the younger man and the receptionist at the Coroner's Office had met. At his insistence, Lee had asked Bridgette out on a date. The PI had told him that very day that he had just met his future wife. "Congratulations."

"Bridge wants you to tell her if it's a boy or a girl."

"Hmmm...well, I have to be there in person for that." The pair laughed. "Tell her I said congratulations."

"I will."

The call was ended a couple of minutes later and Houston began setting up an elaborate web of proxy servers. He was going to use every trick at his disposal to remain safe as he went about looking into Vasil Barkowski. Roy sat quietly watching his nephew. He could tell a change in the man in the short time since the surgery. Although he was still concerned about the possibility that someone was after him, the older man could sense that he was feeling immensely better than he had been.

CJ appeared in the doorway of the den, giving Roy a questioning look after noticing her husband furiously working the keyboard.

"I'm not a computer expert but I believe that someone in Los Angeles is about to suffer a cyber invasion." The older man looked pleased, but noted that CJ looked more concerned.

"You told him?"

"I told Michael to tell him."

Matt paused his work and looked up at her. "Y'all could have told me this when I got home. I could have already started on it."

"I'm not entirely sure that you should be working on it now."

"I'm fine, Babe. I can't just sit around and twiddle my thumbs."

It was then that Madre Rosa's disapproving voice could be heard. "You should be resting, _hijo_." The expression on her face was stern.

"I'm good. Oh, by the way…" He turned his attention back to CJ. "Bridgette is expecting."

"Awww…" The news cheered her and as he had hoped, distracted her from what he was doing. "How far along is she?"

"Didn't ask." He looked beyond her to the housekeeper who angrily turned away, headed toward the back of the house. Lowering his voice he returned to the topic of Barkowski. "Hoyt has Lee and Gabby keeping eyes on this Barkowski guy. I told them to get the keys from Chris. You want to give her a heads up?"

"I can do that. But I want you to promise me that you'll get some rest."

"I will…" He went back to working the keyboard, not seeing the look that she shot Roy, who nodded at her as if to say that he would see to it.

After being sure that his tracks would be sufficiently covered, Matt began looking into Vasil Barkowski. Just as Michael had told him, the man had immigrated from Albania almost twenty eight years earlier. For the most part he had kept a pretty low profile. His business interests included the strip club that the undercover officer had been planted in, two nightclubs, an auto salvage yard, and an import-export business. "How cliche."

"Five dollar French words, huh?" Roy waited.

"Mmm…"

"Pop?" Tomás and Brian stood at the doorway of the den.

"Hey…" Matt hastily closed the laptop.

"Brian said that you wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah, come on in and sit down. Both of you." He watched as the pair entered. "Tomás, I'm sorry all of this mess had to happen on your fall break. I had planned on taking y'all out fishing."

"No problem. I'm just glad you got it taken care of before it got any worse." The young man had taken a seat by the fireplace.

"Well…" Matt carefully shifted in the recliner. "Look, I just wanted to remind you - both of you - that things are a little, uh…" He looked for the right words.

"You want us to pay attention to what's going on around us and to keep a good eye out for trouble." The teenager gave his adopted dad a big grin.

"Uncle Roy has already had a talk with us." Brian added.

"Guys, I'm sorry that y'all are having to deal with this mess." Matt wasn't smiling. "It isn't fair for you to even have to think about stuff like this."

Tomás shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

CJ, having just gotten off the phone with Chris, had been about to enter the den, but heard as Tomás turned the conversation in the direction of a project that he and Matt had been discussing a few days before that centered around the possibility of the teen doing an internship at Mosey Games over the next summer. She turned and went back toward the kitchen where Sheila was supervising the three youngest of the Houston brood as they were enjoying a juice break before going back to playing. She caught sight of Madre Rosa watching the children, a somewhat sad look on her face. "Everything okay?" The housekeeper snapped out of her thoughtful mood and quickly nodded, ducking back into the adjoining laundry room followed by CJ. "Out with it - what's bothering you?" She opened the door of the dryer and began pulling out some of the kids' clothing and folding it.

"Nothing."

"Horse hockey." There was silence. "Something has you worried." Once again the older woman shook her head. "You always got onto Matt and me when we told a fib." The only sound that could be heard in the room was the washer as it began the rinse cycle. "You're worried about him." There was a nod. "He's going to be fine. Dylan-"

"He needs to quit." The housekeeper's voice was tight with emotion. "I thought since…" She stopped, clearly more upset than anyone had known.

CJ pulled her into a hug. "He's feeling a lot better now."

"And I'm glad. But he needs to get out of the business. The children need him here. He's got the ranch, you've got the PH…" Removing her glasses, she swiped at a couple of tears. "And there's Brian and…"

"And even if he did walk away from the detective agency and everything else he would still have people after him." CJ knew what was really at the root of the older woman's worries. Ever since she and Roy had sat everyone on the ranch down and explained just exactly what Matt was up against both with his back and the hit that was out on him, there had been a change in the housekeeper's attitude.

Anger bubbled up in Rosa and she raised her voice. "How can you be so calm about this?!"

"I'm not necessarily calm - more like this isn't the first time we've been through this." She paused. "Actually, it's kind of an ongoing problem now that I think about it. Matt's pissed off a lot of people over the years, Madre Rosa. Sometimes helping one person sets someone else off."

"Maybe he just needs to mind his own damn business for a change!"

CJ stood in shock momentarily. The housekeeper rarely lost her temper much less used curses. "He's always wanted to help people." She kept her tone quiet.

"But what about himself? What about you and the kids?"

"You and I both know how he got started down this road. And as far as the kids are concerned, he's trying to make the world a better place for them."

"If he keeps on like he's been going they won't have him around to…" She completely broke down.

"He's doing everything he can to stay safe."

"And look at what's been happening."

"But now he's got a lot more help."

"I hope it will be enough." The housekeeper pulled herself together. "And don't you dare tell him I was crying."

After a rowdy lunch, Sheila and CJ tucked the twins and Catey in for a nap and then made Matt go rest as well. As he lay on the bed, his mind wandered over what he had learned that day. All of the business with the illegals - both in Texas and in California - swirled around in his mind. It was like a tangled ball of twine. Drawing in a deep breath he slowly let it go. It wasn't something that had happened overnight; it had taken time. And just like building a house, they would build a case against Barkowski and Lynch one brick at a time. The maid working for Lynch would be a big asset. When he had pieced the mess together, they would get her to tell what she knew about him. And from what she had told George - there was plenty to tell, not just the few things that they knew about from the critter surveillance.

Another thought went through his mind and his eyes opened: Lockwood and the Cicero arson investigation. Matt, Rich Holt, and Los Angeles Fire Marshal Don MacLemore all agreed that F. Patterson Lockwood, owner of the Cicero apartment development, had been involved with the arson that had brought the sprawling and much-argued about construction to a halt over a year earlier. He needed to check and see if he could link Lockwood to Barkowski.

Looking around the room, he shook his head: CJ had made sure that his laptop wasn't in the room and he now noticed that she had also removed his cell phone. Carefully, he rolled onto his right side and rummaged in the drawer of the nightstand. "Bingo…" He located a pad of paper and a pencil and jotted down the idea about Lockwood. With his eyes now closed again, he continued to think over the situation until he finally drifted off.


	16. Chapter 16

**16 - Team Effort**

"What do you think you're doing?" CJ's voice caused Matt to jump guiltily. He had managed to slip out of the bed a couple of hours earlier unbeknownst to his soundly sleeping wife who now had caught up to him in the study, the look on her face leaving no doubt that she wasn't pleased in the least with his little disappearing act. "You're not supposed to be moving around without-"

"Good morning to you, too, Babe." He tried giving her a mischievous grin; it was met with an angry scowl. "I made coffee."

"Hon, you promised you would behave."

"And I have been."

"Like hell…"

"Language." After she had been hammering him so much lately about the words he chose, he just couldn't resist.

"Hush." She came around the desk. "So what are you working on?"

"Something that I thought about yesterday afternoon." He carefully shifted his position in the chair behind the desk. "We know that Lockwood and Lynch were in cahoots with the Cicero arson. I just wondered if a search of Lockwood's phone records might show any contact with Barkowski."

"And?" She leaned closer.

"Yup." He proudly pointed at the screen in front of them, noticing as she leaned closer that her hair smelled particularly lovely.

"Good. Another nail in the coffin." She stood back up, nodding.

"I prefer to think of it as another brick in the wall." Reaching for her hand, he pulled her in front of him and tugged her down for a kiss.

"Mmmhmm." She tried to look upset with him again. "That won't make up for the fact that you were up and around without-"

"Hush." He pulled her down for another kiss, neither noticing the housekeeper at the door of the study who lingered a few seconds and then went back to the kitchen.

Later that morning as Tomás was about to leave to go back to California, Matt made his way out onto the back porch and carefully sat down on one of the swings. CJ and Sheila were hovering about. "Would y'all please quit? I'm fine." He took a breath of fresh air. It was the first time he had ventured outside. Looking up as the teen came out onto the porch, he spoke quietly to both women. "Give us a couple of minutes."

"You better not try to go anywhere else." Sheila gave him a look of warning before going back into the house.

"I won't. Tomás, have a seat." The boy carefully sat down next to him. "I know we talked some already about being careful, but I just want to make sure-"

"I'm good, Pop. I won't be leaving campus. Shoot - I won't have time." The teen gave him a big smile. "Those extra classes I'm taking are a lot of work."

"Have I told you lately how proud I am of you?"

"Mmm, not in the last couple of hours or so." The pair got quiet as they looked out toward the horses that were grazing in the barn pasture. "I'll be fine." Tomás knew now why his adopted dad had been so concerned about him the last few months. When Roy had told him and Brian, along with the cowboys, what the man had been dealing with he couldn't believe that he had kept the news from him.

Vince came out onto the porch. "If we're going to make it in time to meet your ride we better get going, kiddo."

The teen stood and leaned down to give Matt a hug. "You behave yourself."

"That's what I'm trying to tell _you_." The cowboy laughed. "Call me when you get there, okay?"

"I will." Tomás gave CJ a hug and kiss on the cheek as she came out to tell him goodbye once again and he and Brian shook hands. In a minute, Matt watched as Vince backed out from the parking area and drove down the driveway out of sight. It was then that his phone rang. Looking at the screen he gave a smirk. "Well, this oughta be a barrel of laughs."

"Derwin?" CJ didn't look pleased.

"Uh huh." He carefully stood up and then answered the phone as he slowly moved back into the house headed for the study. "Hi, Derwin." Although the others could hear a loud voice on the other end of the call, they couldn't make out what was being said. CJ followed him to the study and made sure that he was seated behind the desk before leaving the room.

After finishing the call with Dunlap, Matt called Hoyt. "How's it goin', Gramps?"

"Truthfully? Not anywhere fast." The lieutenant had just gotten back to his office after a meeting with the captain concerning the Berger and Valencia murders. "I do want to thank you, though."

"Oh? For what?"

"For keeping Tamara Placer busy and out of my hair." The tired cop sat down on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

"Sure, no problem. Haven't actually seen her myself, though. I have no idea if she's still hanging around out front or at the department." He gave a laugh.

"So how are you doing?"

"Pretty good. I had an idea that I've been trying to follow up on concerning your boy Barkowski. Since we know that he had dealings with Lynch, I wondered if he had been in contact with Lockwood, too. Turns out that he has. I checked into his phone records."

"That is interesting. Have you told Rich?"

"No, the only two that know so far are you and CJ." Matt carefully stood and went over to the loveseat and eased down onto it. "Look, while you've got Lee and Gabby tailing Barkowski, see if they can try to figure out who he has working for him. Assuming that he's behind killing Berger and Valencia, he most likely has our super-sized strangler and parking stop wrangler on the payroll."

"Uh huh. We've already discussed that."

"I'm slowly getting into Barkowski's system - trying to be extra careful and not set off any booby traps or alarms. You know if we play our cards right, we can nail him, Lockwood, and Lynch all at the same time."

"How's it going with Lynch?"

"So far there hasn't been anything else incriminating." He paused. "This thing is going to take time, Michael. Lockwood is a lightweight, but he's in cahoots with Lynch who definitely knows how to scheme. And from the sound of it, Lynch is relying on Barkowski for the hit on me."

"What about the guy that tried to run you off the bridge? Have you made any headway on that?"

"No. Francine most likely is working on it under the radar."

"On a first name basis now, are you? Guess those rumors are true." Hoyt gave a chuckle.

"Keep on and I'll feed the piranha information on you." He looked at the phone as it beeped. "Chuck's on the other line. I'll talk to you later, Gramps." Ending the call as the lieutenant called him a few choice names, he answered the other.

"Howdy, pard."

"How ya doin' today?" Chuck took a swallow of coffee as he headed back toward the cubicle that they pair shared.

"Finer than a frog hair split four ways. You?"

"Been busier than a street sweeper with a one-bristled broom cleanin' up behind a circus parade."

"You stole that one from Uncle Roy." The cowboy laughed.

"It seemed about right. We've gotten in a couple more reports on some of the Chinese folks - one from Detroit and another in Chicago. But for a change they weren't dead."

"Has anybody gotten them to talk about the triad?"

"Nope. They clammed up." He sat down behind the desk and lowered his voice. "The Boss Lady is going to shift that case over to De la Cruz and Customs is all over it." There was a pause. "I don't like the fact that we lost a man to the triad, but let's face it: those guys are bigger than us and have literally been around hundreds of years doing what they do."

"Yeah, but still..." Matt had felt terrible about not being able to attend Ruiz's funeral.

"It's not something that just you and me can tackle, pard. At least you took out the son of a bitch that shot him. We got a little street justice on that one. Now…" He sipped his drink. "The Boss Lady wants me to work on your problem and told me to check in with either you or Roy and see what needed to be done."

"Well…" Matt racked his brain. "George hasn't gotten anything else on Lynch. I've been doing some looking into Barkowski and his connection to Lockwood. So… " He carefully stood up and began walking around the study. "How about you concentrate on the bridge guy?"

"That's what I was thinking. You know, if this fella is trying to keep a low profile he's probably not staying at a five star hotel. I'm going to get some copies of his mug shot from Chicago and hit some of the dives around here."

"Sounds like a great idea. But be careful."

"I will. Talk to you later."

 _Later that day…_

Tamara Placer pulled up to the black wrought iron security gates of the ranch located just outside of Plano, Texas. After giving her name, she was buzzed in and drove up to the extravagant mansion where she was met at the door by a maid who ushered her into a sunroom that resembled a small jungle.

"Miss Placer, it's a pleasure to meet you." Donovan Lynch hoisted himself out of a wicker chair that somehow didn't look capable of managing to hold his bulk for very long. He held out his hand to the guest, a smile plastered on his face. As someone accustomed to being in front of the camera Placer knew it was a fraud, but returned it with his handshake.

"This is an absolutely gorgeous place you have here, Mr. Lynch."

"Thank you. And please - just call me Donovan. Here, let me help you." He pulled out a chair for her at the small table. "Thank you for joining me for lunch. Peggy, tell Sonia we're ready."

"Yes, sir." The maid quickly left the room.

"I want you to know that I've been following your career closely."

"Have you now?"

"Sure have. It's nice to see that honesty in reporting isn't dead."

She gave a throaty laugh. "Well, aren't you sweet?"

"It's about time somebody blew the whistle on that sheriff down in Harris County. Out cavorting with the so-called hired help. Sounds to me like it's just a cover up for them to have a fling right under Houston's wife's nose."

"There are a lot of people who think so."

"Well, I've known Houston for years - he's no saint no matter how they try to whitewash it. Killed a man a few years back - a very dear friend of mine named Elgin Cody."

"I've heard a little about that. But I'm sure you know more about it."

Both got quiet as the cook rolled in a cart with their lunch and served the pair before quietly leaving.

As he poured her a glass of wine, Lynch picked up the conversation again. "Cody was a great man - gave generously to charity and employed a lot of folks."

"So I've heard." Placer had indeed done her homework on Cody and all of his dirty dealings. She thought it best, however, to play along with Lynch. Hopefully he would give her some more dirt on Houston to boost the network's ratings.

"It was a shame. The man was cut down in the prime of life. Houston paid to have the whole thing covered up. That cock and bull story about some shrink from the CIA being involved was just over the top. No telling how much money it cost him to pull that one off. And of course you know Bill Houston died just a few months before that. I always thought that the boy killed him, too."

"Really?" Placer made a mental note to check into the circumstances of the death.

"Sure nuff." Lynch took a huge bite of the chicken breast that was on the plate, leaving a dribble of sauce alongside his mouth that began the trek down to his chins. The reporter looked back down at her own plate and tried to ignore the disgusting sight.

"So did you do business with Bill Houston?"

"No. Never did." Another huge bite of chicken was consumed as he thought to himself that it wasn't for a lack of trying. The man wouldn't even return his phone calls.

He began talking again, his mouth full. "I saw your report the other day about the security detail at his ranch. Hmph -" A large gulp of wine washed down the half-chewed food and he licked his lips loudly before finally picking up a napkin and smearing his face. "Since when does a deputy need security paid for by the county? He sure enough shot Elgin Cody. 'Course I guess the firing range would have him standing more than a couple of feet away from the target." A bellowing laugh followed. "But maybe since he and the sheriff are lovebirds he doesn't have to meet their qualifications on the range - just in the bedroom."

"It certainly is odd." She momentarily looked up from the plate, catching an evil glint in his eyes.

"You know he bought his wife the ranch right next to his. Maybe he's going to move her in over there so that he can have his new lover right there at home." Lynch's head was inclined toward his plate but his beady eyes were staring right at the reporter's face and he was satisfied with the look of interest there when her head shot up at the comment.

"Mr. Lynch-"

"Please - Donovan."

"Donovan…" She gave him her most winning smile. "You're a most insightful individual. I might just have to look into that."


	17. Chapter 17

**17 - Where's Tamara**

"A local source informed me that Detective Houston has yet to report for his weapons qualification testing for the Harris County Sheriff. All officers are required to meet minimum shooting standards - all that is, with the exception of Matt Houston."

The TV in the den was suddenly dark as Matt turned off the latest report from CNZ's pet reporter Tamara Placer. CJ and Roy were seated on the couch, both looking over at the man whose face had gone pale, the dark eyes flashing with lightning. After taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, he shook his head and spoke. "Well, I guess if she's picking on me she's leaving some other poor soul alone." He looked up as Chuck entered the room. "Did you ever qualify at the range? 'Cause the piranha will be after you next."

"Matter of fact I did qualify." He plopped down on the other end of the couch.

"So how goes the mugshot showing?"

The detective shook his head. " _Nada._ I doubt if most of those places even look up when somebody checks in. I've still got a bunch to go, though. Thought I would stop by on the way home and make sure you're behaving. Any luck on your cyber sleuthing?"

Disgustedly, Matt shook his head and eased to his feet, carefully stretching. "Not yet. He's got a bunch of firewalls up."

CJ, who had remained quiet the whole time now spoke. "She wasn't here when she filed that report."

"Huh?" Matt and Chuck replied at the same time.

"The piranha." Turning her head slightly in thought, a slow smile spread across her face as she reached for her phone. After a minute of typing she nodded her head. "She was in Plano."

"And how do you know that?" Chuck leaned forward and looked around Roy to the lawyer.

"Mama Flo's Hot Chicken. It's one of the most popular restaurants in Plano. I saw the big chicken statue."

"Big chicken statue?" He looked perplexed.

"Yeah, it's got a big chile pepper in one hand and a big platter in the other." She posed with one hand elevated in the air like it was holding a serving tray.

"Only one problem with that." Roy now piped up. "Chickens don't have hands."

"You know what I mean." She rolled her eyes at the older man before looking back to her husband. "Why would she be - "

"Lynch lives right close to there." Matt's features darkened once again and he began moving around the room.

"Birds of a feather flock together - not including the super-sized chicken." Chuck looked at Roy who just shook his head and grinned. The comment, however, appeared to not have been heard by Matt who continued to pace around the den before walking out of the room. CJ was up in a flash and followed him out onto the back porch where he leaned against the pillar staring up at the darkening night sky.

"Getting a little rambunctious, Cowboy." Although she was glad to see that he was moving much better than he had even that morning, she was afraid that he might be rushing into too much activity. There was no answer as he stared out into the starry sky before reaching into his pocket and retrieving his cell phone.

"Hey, George. You didn't happen to get anything involving Placer and Lynch did you?"

The older man rocked back in the chair behind his desk in the smoke-filled office. "No. Why?"

"I think she paid him a visit. Think you can talk to the maid?"

Looking at his watch, he took a deep draw on the ever-present cigarette. "Probably in about an hour or so."

"See what you can find out for me, please."

"You've got it. How ya feelin'?"

"Alright."

"If I get anything on it I'll call you."

"Thanks." He disconnected the call and blew out a big breath.

"Maybe you ought to call it a night, hon." She gently rubbed his back.

"What I'd like to do is-"

"But what you need to do is get some rest."

"I need to be out there trying to shake some information loose."

"And what would you do, hon? George has got Lynch covered, Chuck is after the wannabe hitman, you're already working on Barkowski...what more do you think you could do?"

"I don't know. But I know I'm tired of being cooped up here."

"Well, until Dylan clears you that's exactly where you're going to be. Now come on in." She tugged his hand and he finally relented, following her into the house.


	18. Chapter 18

**18 - Identified**

Matt leaned back from the desk and stared up at the ceiling of the study as he blew out a breath. There was a knock at the door. "Come in."

Roy and CJ entered and it was immediately apparent to both that he was disgusted. The elder Houston landed on the loveseat. "No luck, huh?"

"Yes and no." The PI rubbed his eyes. "I'm in. But this Barkowski plays it close to the vest. There is absolutely nothing in his system that's incriminating in any way."

CJ took a seat in a red leather chair. "Have you told Michael?"

"No - just got done a couple of minutes ago." Picking up the phone, he punched the cop's number and put it on speaker.

A tired sounding voice came over the line. "Hoyt."

"Howdy. Any luck?"

"A little. Wisnewski managed to work some magic on the surveillance video from the North Bronson overpass. He's running facial recognition on it right this minute."

"Glad somebody is making headway. I got into Barkowski's system but can't find a damn thing."

They heard as he answered the phone on his desk. "You did? That's great. Yeah. Thanks." The receiver was noisily replaced and the keyboard came to life. "Houston, the bastard's name is Viktor Kostandin. Here we go…" He retrieved the information. "He's from Albania, too. God - seven feet tall, three hundred fifty pounds…"

"That's bringing back some memories from a few years ago." He exchanged a look with CJ.

"It says here that he's wanted in Shkodër for four homicides ."

"So he's here illegally?" CJ stared at the phone.

"Apparently."

"His name didn't appear in Barkowski's payroll records. No wonder." Matt absently rubbed his beard. "So he killed Berger and Valencia. Makes you wonder who else his boss sicced him on." His eyes met CJ's once again and both spoke. "Kathy's kidnapper."

"Holy cow." Hoyt slumped in his chair.

"And ya know…" Houston tapped on the arm of his chair. "If it was him that took that guy out he could just be the one that fired the shot into Clovis Anderson's hotel room when we were working the Cicero arson. Remember all the windows had been painted shut? It sure enough took some strength to get it open."

Hoyt was the first to reply. "So the hit may have been out on you for quite a while."

"Could be. But you have to wonder why the guy who tried to run me off the bridge was brought in, don't you?"

"Good question."

Roy finally spoke. "I think you need to talk to Rich - get him to lean on Lockwood. He's the weakest link in the chain."

"I do, too." CJ nodded.

"He's right." Michael looked up as clerk Merlin Jackson quickly knocked on the door and stuck his head inside.

"Lieutenant, we've got a body in a dumpster on Pacific and no one available."

"Thanks, Jackson. Houston, gotta go."

"Talk to you later, bud." He disconnected the call, a worried look on his face.

"Matt…" Roy stood and approached the desk. "I know you don't like it, but Rich needs to know what's going on. He already got shot possibly because-"

"Yeah, I know." Matt got up carefully and began moving around the room. "It's not that I don't trust him, Uncle Roy. Or anyone else that knows at this point, but…" He stopped and looked out the window at the front lawn. "The more people that know, the more of a chance for the wrong people to find out. Not saying anyone of them would purposely tell. Just the possibility that they could be overheard."

"It's a chance we'll have to take." CJ watched as he mulled it over and finally nodded his assent.

"I'll give him a call." He punched Rich's number on his phone and continued to walk around the room, feeling more and more like he was caged and less in control of the situation.

Meanwhile at a run-down motel south of I-10, Chuck got out of the department Suburban and stretched. It had been a long day in and out of places that he wouldn't even think of staying and he had the feeling that a long hot shower was going to be his first priority when he got home that night. As he entered the office, a man of about seventy looked up from a magazine and gave him the once over.

"If there's anything hinky goin' on I don't know a damn thing about it."

"I'm sure you don't." He pulled the mugshot out of his shirt pocket and handed it through the small slot in the security partition. "Have you seen this fella around here?"

The older man picked up the picture and adjusted the bifocals perched on his nose, then nodded slowly, spitting a copious amount of tobacco juice into a much-used soda bottle. "Matter of fact I have - but he ain't blonde no more. Got brown hair now and a little bit of beard."

"And is he still here?" Wylie felt his heart beating a little faster.

"Is there a little blue Honda sittin' out there at the end of the building?"

The detective moved toward the door and took a look. "Uh huh. Let me see what you've got on his registration." He pulled his phone out as he looked over the information, none of which matched up with the booking sheet from Chicago. Stepping where he could keep an eye on the car, he dialed Martinez's private number. "I think we may have found our man."

The sheriff put down her pen. "Where?"

"The El Matador south of I-10 almost to Channelview. The clerk says he's got brown hair and going under the name of Dan Moss. He's driving a blue Honda - looks like a Civic, maybe late 90's model, tag number Boy-Sam-Charlie-6341." He could hear as she began running the plate.

"It's stolen out of Lubbock. Hold your position - I'm sending you some backup. And I don't need to tell you we want him alive."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Call me as soon as you have him in custody."

"Will do." He disconnected the call, turning his attention back to the clerk. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"I dunno. He hits the convenience store up 2-3 times a day. But it ain't none of my bidness."

"Uh huh." Glancing back out at the car he thought about calling Houston but then decided against it. The last thing he wanted to do was take a chance on Matt doing something stupid. No, it would be better to call him when they had the guy in the back of a cruiser and give him the good news.

The wait for backup took forever, or at least felt that way. Four department cruisers eased into the parking lot and before exiting the office, Chuck looked to the clerk. "Anybody else working around here?"

"Nope. Maid's been gone for three hours now."

"Best stay inside until we give you the all clear. Matter of fact lock the door and go in back."

"Don't gotta tell me twice."

Wylie heard the steel window cover slide down inside the office and the clerk disappeared. With another glance at the car, he eased out into the parking lot and met up with the four deputies who had been sent. "Last room on the end there where the blue Honda is parked - you two go around back. Let's move." He drew his pistol and walked alongside one of the patrol cars as they made their way to the room. The curtains were closed and there was no sound at all coming from the room. Chuck cautiously approached the door of 24 and after being sure that the other two men were ready, got within two steps of it. After a deep breath he quickly moved forward and hit the door right next to the jam, the old wooden frame splintering and giving way. "Sheriff's Office!" The three men entered the room, searching under the bed, and then the bathroom. "Dammit all to hell!" His fury boiled over: the hitman wasn't in the room, but the window in the bathroom was open, the dirty curtain wafting in the breeze. "Spread out and look for him." He left the room and went around the back of the motel, the smell of the bayou meeting him as he rounded the corner. "Pilkins, go check out the convenience store." Pulling out his phone once again he called Martinez. "He must have spotted us. He wasn't in the room. This place backs up to Carpenter's Bayou. We could use some air support and some more help on the ground."

"You've got it. I'll be there ASAP."

Deputy Pilkins returned to the room after a few minutes. "The convenience store clerk says that he was in there Saturday getting first aid supplies - had a bloody towel wrapped around his hand."

"Interesting. Wonder what he did to it?"

"Don't know. The clerk says he doesn't talk much - mostly grunts or just stares at him when he tries to strike up a conversation."

"Does he think it was a serious injury?"

"I asked. He says that when he came in Sunday there was an elastic bandage wrapped around his hand. Looked like maybe he had cut the palm. Said that's where most of the padding seemed to be. Last time he saw him was this morning buying coffee and a pack of donuts."

"Well…" Chuck re-entered the room and began looking around. Apparently the maid was all for conserving the number of trash bags used on the job: both of the room's garbage cans were overflowing and it didn't take the detective long to find bloody bandages. He straightened up and removed the nitrile gloves before dialing for a CSU team to come process the room and then after donning more gloves, began looking around. There was no cell phone in sight but after a few moments he located one stuffed under the mattress. A quick look at the browser history showed him that their would-be hitman had indeed been looking at Houston's property - specifically the area along the river and what was now the Rockin' PH.

He placed another phone call, this time to Vince. "You're not around Houston are you?"

"No, we're along the fenceline bordering the PH putting down cable. Why?"

"Because I've just tracked down Dibra - or at least found his hotel room. Seems he's been looking at the river area real close."

"If he shows up now he's gonna get quite a welcome: we're all armed. I'll talk to Marty and get some of the boys stationed along the river."

"You probably need to let Roy know so he can keep our boy in the house."

"I'll do it. Keep me in the loop." The former cop immediately dialed the foreman and filled him in.

Marty put the top back on the fizzy pop that he had been about to take a swallow of and glanced at Sheila. "I'll get on it." He hung up. "Go back to the house."

"What's wrong?" She had brought him the drink out to one of the pastures where he had been checking the herd.

Hesitating for a few seconds he thought it over. "Keep him in the house."

"Oh, my God. He's here?"

"Not sure where he is but Chuck found where he's been staying and he's lookin' real hard at maps along the river. Go back and make sure he stays inside - make sure all of 'em do. Roy should know by now and will help you." She immediately got back in the truck and headed toward the house in a hurry as he called Emilio and Clint and started hastily to the river access himself.

Chuck exited the motel as a mobile command center pulled into the parking lot right behind Francine Martinez. "Any progress?"

The detective nodded. "He's been looking at the river area behind Houston's and the PH. Vince and the guys are moving into position just in case he headed that way."

"Good."

The pair entered the command center and Chuck had a seat in front of one of the computer terminals, pulling up Goggle Maps and Matt's home on one screen and the area along Carpenter's Bayou just behind the motel on another. "Like I said, we don't know for sure that he's gone to the bayou, but the car is still here which leads me to think he's on foot. None of the cars we have out has spotted him along the road."

"So the bayou is the most likely. We've got two K9 units en route to assist with the search. I need you to go into the room and bag something that belongs to him so they have something to go on. Bring it back here and then take some of these folks down to the bayou when K9 gets here. And Chuck?" He paused in the doorway. "Be careful." The answer was a nod.

Wylie, Pilkins, and two of the other deputies began the trek over the uneven highly vegetated ground toward the bayou following one of the canine units. The German Shepherd had quickly started in that direction after sniffing the shirt that had been bagged. Each man had an AR-15 held at the ready, their eyes scanning the area for any sign of the hitman. They moved as quietly as possible, but the further into the area they went, the more overgrown it was. Chuck stayed right behind the dog's handler and as the swampy area grew darker, his senses seemed to become even more in tune with the surroundings.

Suddenly the dog stopped, his nose continuing to sniff as his tail stuck straight out and he froze in his tracks. The handler looked over at Chuck and nodded. "Sheriff's Office with a canine. Come out with your hands in the air or-" A shot rang out and the two men ducked as did the dog who began growling and straining at the lead. Neither man could pinpoint the exact area that the shot had come from.

Chuck keyed the mic on his shoulder and informed the other units in the search of the development. Back in the command center Martinez gravely monitored the situation. She had every confidence in Chuck and the others involved in the search - and knowing how motivated the detective was to get the man that had made an attempt on Houston's life, she was letting him call the shots at this point. Unless otherwise indicated, she felt that he had the best handle on the situation as it unfolded and would make the best decision possible.

The air unit showed up on scene and began making sweeps of the area, focusing on the coordinates that Chuck fed them of his location. The thick cover wasn't helping their cause, but if Dibra decided to make a break for the open areas they would be the best bet to spot him. There were other units closing in from the other side of the narrow waterway in case the quarry attempted escape in that direction. Carefully, the K9 crew and Chuck began moving forward again, both keenly aware that although the air unit was great as far as visuals, the sound from the helicopter was somewhat of a hindrance to the officers.

After studying the map of the area, Wylie knew that it was just a matter of time before they closed in on the man; he had sent a team of officers down a dirt road that led to the bayou and they would be tightening up the perimeter like a snake tightening its coils.

Off to his right Chuck now heard an officer ordering someone to drop their weapon and come out with their hands in the air. The answer was a single shot. Radio chatter was being held to a minimum and as the officer who had been shot at reported in, he quietly spoke to the canine handler. "Think our best bet is to hunker down here under this cover." He motioned to a limb extending from an ancient tree that had long tendrils of Spanish moss hanging from it. "If we play our cards just right he'll come right to us." The answer was a nod and the pair did just that, the handler ordering the dog to be silent as they took up their position. In a matter of minutes both spotted Dibra who apparently had been taking quite a beating from the briars that grew in the area; his shirt was looking tattered and splatters of blood could be seen on his bare arms. When he was within fifteen feet and looking back over his shoulder, Wylie calmly spoke up. "Drop it, Dibra. Now." There was a moment of indecision as the man slowly turned to face them. He looked at the pistol in his hand and then at Wylie who held the rifle on him. "Guarantee you don't want to try to beat me to the shot, boy. Drop it." Hanging his head, the man complied and was quickly taken into custody.


	19. Chapter 19

**19 - More Revelations**

"Hey, Pard - we got him." Chuck was behind the wheel of the Suburban following along behind the ambulance as it carried Dibra to the hospital for treatment in the gathering darkness.

"You did?" Houston was halfway back to the study from a trip to the kitchen for coffee.

"Yup."

"Has he said anything?" He eased down into the chair behind the desk.

"Not a single word. But we got his ass. And he's probably got about a thousand saw briars in it, too. We got him down in Carpenter's Bayou." There was laughter on both ends of the call.

"Way to go, man. Great job. Thanks. I owe you."

"Naw, you don't owe me a thing. I'll call you later and let you know all about it."

"I sure appreciate it, pard." The call ended and Matt found himself breathing a sigh of relief as CJ stuck her head in the door. "That was Chuck: they just picked up Dibra."

"Oh, thank heaven." Pulling out her own phone she quickly called Vince and then Marty before coming around the desk and sharing a kiss with her husband. "I've got to go tell Sheila."

He watched her leave and then sat there thinking. So they had Dibra - now what? Would he roll over on Barkowski or whoever had hired him? He turned the chair and looked out through the front window of the study as the sky grew darker. No matter how glad he was that Chuck had tracked the man down another thought that had been plaguing him for over a week resurfaced: CJ had told him that Barkowski had made calls to Japan and Mexico. The only possible answer he had for Mexico was Las Serpientes. But Japan? He hadn't even been to Japan since not long after he had moved to California. And he had been there on Houston Industries business - not as a private investigator. Who the hell had he pissed off in Japan?

"CJ told me the good news." Madre Rosa entered the room and sat down.

"Good ole Chuck."

"You've been blessed with a lot of good friends." She watched as he nodded. "But even now you are still worried, _hijo._ " There was no reply as he looked back out the window. "You also have many enemies."

"Yes ma'am, I do. But I'd like to think that the friends outnumber the enemies."

"Tell me this: is it worth it what you do? All of the risks you take, all of the wounds you have received? Look at what you just went through with your back."

"That didn't have anything to do with being a private investigator."

"Isn't that how you met that woman that tried to have you blown up?"

"Yes. But that isn't where the bone fragment came from." He turned the chair and looked at her, a painful look in his eyes. "It came from Iraq."

"From Iraq?" There was complete surprise in her tone.

"Yes."

"How?"

Unbeknownst to the pair, CJ had stopped in the hallway just outside of the study, afraid to enter and interrupt them.

"It happened on April 4, 2003 in Hamamiyat." His voice was hardly above a whisper, and although CJ had read the commendation and knew the story by heart, she had never before heard him actually talk about it. "My unit was on patrol through the area…" He went on to tell her how the group of five men had been pinned down while attempting to defend a girls' orphanage in the small town but all of them had been injured badly - three of them succumbing to their wounds before help could arrive three days later, and a fourth after surgery. Although they had managed to save forty of the young girls who ranged in age from just a few weeks up to twelve years old as well as their caretakers, six had been killed. One in particular stuck out in his mind. "Her name was Jinani and she was the oldest girl there - twelve years old. Her family had been murdered while they slept. She was just a few months old when extremists accused them of being traitors." There was a pause and she could hear as he tried to keep his emotions under control. "One of the neighbors found them the next morning and took her to the orphanage. The other girls looked up to her and she had helped to raise most of them, considered them her family. They were all she had ever known." There was a long pause as he sipped on the cup of coffee, Rosa noticing that his hands were shaking as he did so. "All five of us had been hit when a mortar round collapsed part of a wall of the building. Quince was killed instantly. Jinani and the ladies were doing their best to keep the younger girls sheltered and calm. After the mortar hit I was knocked out for a few minutes and when I came to she was over me, bathing my face with water - which there wasn't much of. So I told her to save the water and go back to the others. My right arm was broken and my left leg had a lot of shrapnel below the knee. It took me several minutes to move three of my men back with the women. Parker was unconscious and losing a lot of blood. Rodriguez had part of his skull blown away and was just about gone. Dietrich was hit bad - couldn't walk. He was trying to work on Parker and Rodriguez and keep the girls calm. It was then that I noticed that two mortars had hit the building but only one had exploded. I was moving toward it with the idea of trying to shift as much rubble as I could between it and the next room where the girls were hiding. Jinani wanted to help and I told her no - to go back, but she refused and I had my back turned moving a chunk of the wall when she tried to move a table to block it…" He stopped and his wife could hear as his voice cracked and knew without a doubt that he was doing his best not to lose it. "She was right next to me when it slid down and hit the floor. It exploded. Jinani took the brunt of it and I took shrapnel in my back. But apparently not all of it was from the mortar. Dylan had it tested…" He got quiet then and she could hear the sound of the housekeeper as she began crying. Peeking around the corner she saw that Rosa had moved around the desk and now cradled his head. Hearing movement, CJ looked around to see Sheila standing with a shocked expression as tears streamed down her face. She put an arm around the nanny and guided her back toward the kitchen, with the thought that Matt and the older woman needed this time to themselves.

"Oh, my God." Sheila quietly wiped away tears. "I never knew the story behind it."

CJ nodded. "I've never heard him talk about it."

"So all this time that little piece of bone was in his back and…" She shuddered.

"I knew that he and Dylan were talking this morning but I had no idea that was what it was about." CJ pulled a pitcher of tea from the refrigerator and poured each of them a glass. Both looked up as Marty came through the back door, a look of surprise at the obviously upset state of the two women.

"What happened now?"

"Nothing." CJ plastered a smile on her face and poured another glass. "Why don't y'all go sit on the swing and enjoy the evening, huh?" She handed him the drink and gently pushed the pair toward the door.

"The kids-"

"I've got the kids. Go." She watched as the confused cowboy opened the door for the nanny and after giving CJ a perplexed look, shook his head and followed Sheila out on the back porch.

It was after ten that night when Chuck called Matt's cell phone. He and CJ were lying in bed as he answered and put it on speaker. "So did you get anything out of him?"

"Nope. He wants to talk to you. Face to face."

"Oh?"

"Uh huh. I told him I couldn't promise him anything."

"When?"

CJ was vehemently shaking her head.

"That would be up to you. I didn't think you were cleared to leave the house."

She spoke up. "He's not."

"Cleared be damned."

"Matt-"

"No, Babe. I'm going to talk to this son of a bitch. Maybe I can get him to roll."

"You are NOT going anywhere. Dylan said-"

"Dylan says I'm healing a hell of a lot faster than expected. I don't think a little car ride and sitting down to talk to somebody is going to kill me."

Chuck looked over at Martinez who was sitting behind Matt's desk. "I told the Boss Lady you would jump on it."

"Houston, I really think-" The sheriff started in.

"No, ma'am. I'm doing this. This bastard has put everybody around me in danger and turned their lives upside down. I damn sure want to know who he's working for so I can put an end to it. What time?"

Chuck shook his head, grinning. "How about 9:30? That oughta give an old gimp like you time to get your bones moving."

"Kiss my gimp."

"No, thanks. I'm spoken for already."

"I'll be there."

"We'll meet in my office then." Martinez looked put out.

"Fine. See ya then." Houston disconnected the call.

At 8:45 the next morning, Matt was in the back of the Expedition as Vince pulled through the front gates of the estate. "Piranha alert. Looks like she missed you, Ace." He laughed at the grumble that came from the back seat. A patrol car fell in behind them, effectively blocking the reporter and her cameraman from getting too close.

"Guess she'll be griping about the escort." Houston, although annoyed at having Placer so close, was relieved to be out of the house and on the move once again.

Bivens, who was riding shotgun, looked back at the detective. "So why is she so all-fired after you anyway?"

"Long story."

"I've got time."

"I don't have the patience." All three laughed.

Vince pulled around to the back entrance of the building as Martinez had arranged. That way Houston could avoid not only the steps, but also the reporter: the back entrance was restricted and she couldn't get anywhere near him. The sheriff was waiting for him as he carefully slid out of the SUV. "Welcome back."

"Thanks."

"I see you're wearing your sidearm."

"Seems like I was informed by a certain sheriff that I was required to do that while in the building."

"Yeah, well, you know - you are a privileged staff member. At least according to some sources."

"You really didn't need to send the escort today ya know."

"Just trying to be on the safe side. Besides, she's gotta have something to gripe about. Gotta keep the ratings up." They entered the elevator and made the trip up to her office. "Now…" She motioned around the room. "Where would be the best place for you to sit?"

"Over here will be just fine." He had eased down onto the loveseat. "So has he got a lawyer?"

"He does - a public defender."

"So how much do you reckon we'll actually get out of him?"

She shrugged. "He was the one who asked for the meeting." The group chit chatted until the secretary poked her head inside.

"They're here."

"Send them in." Martinez walked around and leaned against the front of her desk as Chuck escorted Dibra into the office, shackled and handcuffed, and accompanied by the grizzled looking public defender.

A chair was placed about fifteen feet in front of Houston who stared expressionlessly at the man who had caused so much worry to his friends and family. Vince had the thought that most people looking at his friend would never be able to tell that just over a week ago he couldn't move his legs at all. Now he sat with his left ankle propped on his right knee looking calm and relaxed as if nothing had ever happened. _No damn wonder he made his first millions in Vegas._

"Mr. Dibra would like to talk to you with the express understanding that he will receive some consideration for what he has to say."

"That isn't up to me." Matt's tone was just as calm as his demeanor.

There was a knock at the door and Chuck opened it for the assistant district attorney that had been assigned to the case.

"As I was saying, my client expects some consideration-"

"Depends on what he has to offer." The DA looked and sounded bored by the whole affair. "Name's Bart O'Hurley by the way." He nodded to Matt.

"Then I'll have to advise him not to speak to Detective Houston."

"I will speak. You will shut up." There was an accent there to be sure and Matt was immediately reminded of the as yet unidentified shooter in Los Angeles that had kidnapped Hoyt's daughter.

Dibra stared intently at the man across from him. "I could have taken you out that day on the river."

"But you didn't." Until that moment, Matt hadn't known that the man in the boat had been Dibra. He showed absolutely no surprise whatsoever, but Vince and Chuck both stood slack-jawed. "Chickened out I guess? Not used to dealing with someone who will look you in the eye?"

There was a slight laugh from the young man who rubbed gingerly at the bandages covering his hand.

"And you failed on the bridge."

Another protracted pause ensued with the two men staring at each other while the others remained quiet looking between them.

"The man who hired me was hired by someone else. From what he told me you have offended a great many people."

"And your point is what exactly?"

"I have information that you want. You in turn will give me what I want. I see how this works on TV."

"Hate to break it to you there, bub - but this ain't TV." Houston continued to stare at the man emotionlessly. "Now if all you're going to do is waste my time I'll just be leaving. I've got work to do."

"His name is Vasil Barkowski and he is located in Los Angeles."

"Yeah, we already knew that." Although they hadn't really, he did enjoy the look of surprise and worry that came across the young man's face.

"He hired someone previously to kill you, but when the man failed he had him killed."

"You sound like a bad rerun."

"I overheard a conversation in Barkowski's outer office when I was last there. One of the people who is contributing to the price on your head is named Philippe LaSalle."

Matt continued to look impassive, but the gears in his head had come roaring to life. Philippe LaSalle was an alias that Yvon Perrier used. He had taken off after CJ had managed to hack the computer system of his company Arnaud Imports - a shell company for the man's activities as a distributor of child porn - about two years earlier. No trace had been found of him in the US or Canada, but now the idea came to him that Perrier must be the one that Barkowski had contacted in Japan.

The DA, who had remained quiet up until that point, now spoke. "And you would be willing to testify to all of this?"

"As long as you can guarantee my safety."

Matt continued to play it cool. "So is that all you have?" The answer was a nod.

"I'll see what I can arrange." The DA was busy scribbling down the details on a legal pad.

"Chuck, have him placed in Administrative Segregation." Martinez nodded at the detective and he led the man out accompanied by the public defender who looked thoroughly confused.

The DA sat down in the chair that had previously been occupied by Dibra. "So, Sergeant...it seems that there's a lot more here than meets the eye." Peering over the glasses perched on the end of his nose, he reminded Matt of an owl that had been disturbed in the midst of his sleep, the little bit of fringe that encircled his mostly bald head seeming to have a mind of its own and going in whatever direction it chose. "I take it that you knew about all of this, Sheriff?"

"Most of it, yes." She circled back around the desk and had a seat.

"So was Mr. Dibra being truthful about the two attempts on your life here?"

"Actually it was only the one on the bridge; he never produced a weapon on the river behind my house."

"But you knew that it was him?"

"No, not until he said so while ago."

The comment drew a chuckle from the lawyer. "I've heard about you, Sergeant. Seems that part of it is true."

"As long as you don't believe what Tamara Placer says."

"I wouldn't believe that woman if her tongue came notarized."

"Smart thinking."

"Alright then." He stood up as did Matt and the two shook hands. "I'll get the ball rolling on this. Nice to have met you."

"Same here." Houston waited until he had gone through the door before slowly beginning to walk around the office.

"You okay?" Martinez watched him.

"Uh huh…"

"So you didn't know about the river."

"Nope."

Vince, who had remained quiet through the entire proceeding, broke his silence. "You need to call Michael and let him know."

"I will."

"You should go on home and get some rest." Martinez shuffled papers on her desk.

"No, what I have to do now is go home and make a call to a certain FBI agent in Los Angeles - plus Michael. Thanks for all of your help."

"What are friends for?"

Back in Los Angeles the next day, Vasil Barkowski paced restlessly around his office after receiving the news that his latest hitman had failed spectacularly. Worse, he had no way of eliminating him, something that he now cursed himself for overlooking. The capture of Dibra was barely more than an incidental report on the news in Houston. It was being played off by officials as being related to a murder in Chicago - keeping Lynch from the knowledge that once again there had been a failure on the part of Barkowski to hire a competent hitman. Now he needed to get a replacement as quickly as possible.

Trying to calm himself, he poured vodka and began sipping as he sat down behind his desk, barely hitting the seat when his cellphone began to ring. The call was from Mexico. "Good afternoon."

"Not for you it isn't."

"And why is that?"

"You and I both know that your employee didn't complete his job."

"Oh? What makes you say that?" Barkowski felt immediate unease and downed the contents of his glass.

"Because unlike other stockholders I have been keeping a close eye on the situation. Very close."

A nervous laugh escaped Vasil. "I believe you're mistaken, _amigo_."

"No. Now I have a proposition for you. For a nominal fee plus the return of my initial investment, I will have one of my employees finish the job." He waited as the Albanian remained quiet. "Don't worry - the others never have to know about it. Your reputation will remain untarnished." The new leader of the Mexican cartel stood and stretched his long legs, moving about the loft apartment that overlooked Nuevo Laredo and the Rio Grande.

Barkowski went back to the bar, this time filling the glass. "I'll get back to you."

"Don't take too long, _compadre_. I'm not a patient man." The call was disconnected on the Los Angeles end and a smile played across the face of Diego Mendoza. Softly he spoke. "And I have more reasons to want him dead than you will ever know."


End file.
